It Started in Vegas
by CheeriosAreSquare
Summary: Who would be the last person you would get hitched with in Vegas? For Reba, it's her ex-husband. See what happens in this story. Please Read!
1. Chapter 1

Reba Hart awoke. The cotton sheets, in a shade of blue of an endless ocean that would have been disgusting if you were in a bad mood, embraced her , she pushed a mess of red hair out of her face, the stink of alcohol was nauseating to her as she stretched in the large, unfamiliar bed. Blinking, she saw silver among the color of flesh. It glimmered, then she sat up. _Where am I? Vegas...crappppppp!_ No one was in that room with her, he probably left.

This can not be happening.

She quickly wrapped herself in something nearby either hers or his, she wasn't sure. She found a door she believed was the bathroom, alabaster white and gave the appearance it was newly painted. Opening it, she screamed. Brock Hart stood in front of her.

"You?!" She managed to hiss out. "Anyone but you. tell me this is not serious." She turned around, her two hands covering her face.

"Well, Elvis's Chapel Of Love seems pretty serious," He told her, a slight smile of amusement on his face.

"Tell me, are you still dru--what are those?" Reba caught a glance at the stack of papers Brock held.

"They're wedding---" before he could finish, she had snatched the papers away. Reba, in shock, looked through the wedding documents from pictures to certificate. Reba began to think properly.

"Where are the kids?" Reba questioned, her blue eyes in shock, glancing over the papers. She grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table.

5 missed calls. Cheyenne, Cheyenne, Van,Cheyenne, Kyra. Cheyenne left a message that they were going home and told Reba to keep safe. It listed the missed calls. Reba knew she couldn't just tell the kids she just got hitched with their father in Vegas.

Out of all the other people.

Stupid Van and his real estate selling ability. Van had earned a free trip to Vegas for ten people of his choice and somehow motivated Reba to go, along with Brock. Barbra Jean had refused, insisting on focusing on her new job. Reba knew it was a lie. Last week, the two had went to court about their divorce, but they hadn't informed the kids yet.

How sickening and...and dirty this made Reba feel. He was still a married man! And she married him. In Vegas.

"We need to start packing,"Reba told him, scrambling to throw on her top.

" Check out is at three," Brock informed her, already halfway buttoning his shirt. It was only ten thirty.

"You know, you seem to like how screwed up this is," Reba told him, giving him a angry look. Brock smiled, then answered," Well, last night was quite----"Gah!!" Reba began to cover her ears. Brock smiled, satisfied. Reba began packing the suitcases, as Brock queried," You're not gonna tell the kids?"

"Not now." Reba gritted through her teeth."Anything left?"

"Well, these papers," Reba snatched the papers with a disgusted look on her face. Her ring sparkled as she took the paper from Brock.

"You like the ring?" Brock mischievously asked.

"No, I'm afraid it'll melt if I put it down." She sarcastically answered him. Reba knew there was no point in moping now. She was somewhat in a..."domestic relationship" with this man. She went inside the bathroom to take a shower. After she was done, her eyes widened in horror. She had packed her towel in the suitcase already.

"Brock?" She called for, realizing this was her last result.

"What, are you OK?" Brock thought of her high blood pressure and this dilemma might have risen it in some way.

"I kinda left my towel in the suitcase, can you get it for me?" She asked, embarrassed out of her , he retrieved the blanket, then knocked on the white door.A hand grabbed the towel and he heard a mumbled thank you.

"Anything for you, wifey," he grinned, as the hand that just received the blanket slapped him, "Owww!!" he rubbed his arm.

Reba stepped out fully dressed and the two went down the giant hotel.

* * *

"I'm sorry,ma'am, but checkout is at three, why don't you eat at our brunch service," The lady at the counter, no more than twenty five, flashed them a giant grin. Left with no choice, the two went to the restaurant. The two ate the food almost with reluctance, even though it was delicious. Brock was the first to break the silence.

"What are we going to do?" Brock asked.

"Well, you can't be married to two women at the same time," Reba sarcastically told him," I don't know, this mess is so dumb, there's too many things tied to it, it's all your fault, you mo-ron!"

"My fault, who was the one who downed five shots?Who was the one that yelled "let's get married!'" Brock retorted.

"Well, you were the one who wanted to tag along!" Reba yelled back, holding her fork up as if she was going to hurt him. A bunch of tourists glanced at them.

"Well, I assumed you were more fun than the kids!" He yelled back, then mumbled,"you were." Reba gave him a deadly look, then hissed," Any talk about last night and I will kill you with my bare hands. Besides, can we get divorced here?"

" Not yet! Look, why don't we just try?" Brock asked," Besides, we have to go through everything and we don't know if this is even legal, let's go home and see a lawyer first, come on, its three o' five, let's go"

The two checked out, full of thoughts, so similar yet so different.

_Viva Las Vegas._


	2. Chapter 2

Reba had her hand holding up her face, looking out the car window. Brock glanced at her, then turned on the radio. Reba gave him an annoyed look.

"Turn it off," Reba ordered him, then returned to her pouting state. Brock did not turn off the radio.

"Are you going to?" Reba rolled her eyes, then glared at him and the radio. Brock turned to look at her.

"You're not the boss of me." He muttered, his blue eyes traveling to Reba, almost expecting to get whacked on the head. Reba slowly turned, then gave him a deathly look.

"If I was your boss, you'd be fired, with a big, fat stupid all over your folder, now turn off the stupid radio!" the words flew out of her mouth.

"Why?" Brock asked.

"Why?" Reba stopped to think,"Shut up, that's why!" Reba began to ignore him. Five minutes had past and then her phone rang.

"Ha, turn it off," Reba began reaching for her purse. Brock reluctantly turned down the radio by one level. It resulted in a deadly grimace from Reba. Reba managed to grab her vibrating and ringing cell phone. Her eyes immediately enlarged, then she faced Brock.

"It's Cheyenne," Reba glanced from the phone to Brock. Brock immediately turned off the radio all together. Then began to open the passenger seat window.

"Hurry, throw it out the window!" He told her.

"You chicken butt, we can't ignore them forever," She opened the phone. Pausing, she greeted her eldest daughter.

"Cheyenne, honey?" On the other line, Cheyenne was asking where she was, in a desperate manner."Well, you see, I ,um,thought you came home after all those calls so I'm coming home." Cheyenne informed her they weren't coming home in another two days."OK, bye, honey,see ya!" Reba enthusiastically told her. After she hung up, she returned to over fuming anger, mostly towards Brock. Reba turned to him, irritated.

"They are returning in two days, so we can see what we can do."Reba informed Brock.

"Some honeymoon,"Brock muttered.

"Shut up, this ain't a honeymoon, it's a death sentence from being too nice to you," Reba gave him an irksome expression. Brock pulled into a diner parking lot.

"What are you doing?"Reba questioned.

"Reba, we've been driving for five hours, I'm tired." He told her, unbuckling his seat belt. Shocked, Reba grabbed him firmly on the arm, preventing him from getting off the car.

"What? I'm not tired!" Reba told him

Well, I was the one driving and we're almost outta gas," Brock re countered,"too bad." As Brock exited the car, Reba stuck her tongue out at him. Then, exited the car herself,entering the diner.

* * *

After a nice meal and adding gas, the two set on going home. After another fifteen miles, they reached Reba's house. Brock helped her unload the car and bring in her luggage. He stood, then began to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Haven't you learned alcohol is not a good thing to drink when you're with me?" Reba gave him another sarcastic comment. Brock gave her a mocking laugh, heading for her couch. He sat himself on the couch.

"Brock?" Reba asked. the sudden change in tone made him face her," Go home!" She yelled.

"I can't!" Brock whined.

"Why?"

"Please, I can't face Barbra Jean. You're her best friend. She would kick me out anyway Plus, she won't expect us for another two days." Brock reasoned. Reba rolled her eyes,"Come on, you wouldn't wanna hurt her."

"If it gets you out of my house. She muttered, then admitted." Imagine how I feel. Then go to a motel" She headed for the kitchen.

"Reba!!"

"What?"

"You know that's not good," Reba turned to face him, a questioning and threatening look on her face. "It's sixty bucks a night!" Reba rolled her eyes, then headed back, bottle of water in hand.

"Fine. You can stay for the nights. It's too late to figure anything out now,you can sleep on the couch," Knowing what he was going to complain about, she added," couch or motel."

The two both slept restlessly that night.

* * *

"We're home, mom." Cheyenne called, opening the door and entering, Jake, Kyra, Van, and a bunch of luggage following. Reba looked at Brock. This was it.

"Mom, what is it? You sounded really paranoid on the phone," Cheyenne, concerned, queried her mother.

"Of course, she spent twenty hours in a car with Dad."Kyra added.

"Well, more than that, actually," Reba nervously scratched her head, then let out a chuckle,"You see, well, boy, this seems like I'm the stupid teenager and you're the mother. Anyway, you see your dad and I got a little wild in Vegas, and we ended getting married" Cheyenne's eyes' instantly searched her mother's hands, then discovered the silver ring glimmering on her mother's ring finger. In shock, the kids all took different reactions. Jake was the first to give an opinion of the situation.

"What? So you're remarried?"Jake inquired.

"Somebody, get a helmet," Kyra voiced, earning a glare from her elder sister."What, someone is gonna get hurt and I'm living with them."

"What, so you two came home two days early? How could something like this even happen? Van, this is insane, right?" Cheyenne began to give her parents a speech. Van folded his arms, then stepped up to Brock. His protective instincts over Reba kicked in.

"Do you think this is funny?" Van questioned, his two eyebrows was starting to look like one,"Cause let me tell you something," he faced Brock,"it's not funny. You better explain yourself, little Missy" He turned his glance to Reba, who was standing next to Brock.

Reba rolled her eyes, then answered,"Look-----"

"Hey, heard you guys were back!" Barbra Jean came in, cheery as always. Five faces looked at her with blank expressions. Confused, she asked with a smile," Who died?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Five faces looked at her with blank expressions. Confused, she asked with a smile," Who died?"_

"What?" Barbra Jean asked. That goofy smile made Reba even more guilty."Oh! Is it a surprise for me?" Barbra Jean jumped up and down in glee, expecting a new beanie baby or a souvenir from Vegas. Cheyenne and Van looked at each other. Kyra grabbed Jake by the collar,"Come on, got to unpack." Jake and Kyra exited the kitchen.

"Er, yeah, Cheyenne and I are gonna unpack too," Van told the three adults.

"Van, you don't live here." Reba bluntly stated.

"I know, we're gonna unpack, so we don't need to unpack when we get home, and um, it's a lot of fun. Yeah, that's it!" Van made up, ending his sentence with a loud laugh, exiting the kitchen with a confused expression

"Reba, what's going on?" Barbra Jean decided to ignore Van's unusual behavior and questioned Reba. Uncomfortable under Barbra Jean's big, innocent eyes, Reba faced Brock with a helpless expression.

"Barbra Jean---"Reba and I got married in Vegas!" Brock blurted out before Reba could say anything. Reba let out a nervous chuckle,"Anyone want pie?" Barbra Jean followed Reba with a confused expression.

"This is a joke, huh? Very funny." Barbra Jean broke in laughter. The two stared at her with blank not.

"What do you mean? You married my husband, you marriage wrecker!" Barbra Jean hissed at her, pointing a finger at her. Shocked, Reba was quick to remind her what she had done.

"This was a scheme,huh? To get you two together." Barbra Jean inquired, glancing from Brock to Reba. Reba turned to Brock and rolled her eyes.

"Right, this is who I'm madly in love with, the man that broke my heart, weirdly orange, sure," Reba listed in a monotonous voice, Brock grinning at her comment."Look, why are you mad at me, it's the pig you chose as a husband too!" Reba glared at Brock.

"Yeah, what is this? We aren't even divorced yet." Barbra Jean yelled at him, her hands at her hip. Brock backed up.

"Woah, I can't handle two hysterical women at the same time. " Brock told them, Reba turned around to face Brock as Barbra Jean gave him a look Brock was sure had rubbed off from two women's deathly glare caused Brock to run out the kitchen. Sighing, Reba motioned Barbra Jean to go home and they would discuss this when they have more information. Reba opened the door in her kitchen as Barbra Jean began to walk out. Giving her one last evil look, her next step caught Reba off track.

Barbra Jean had pulled Reba in a gigantic hug. Confused, Reba tried to pry her off.

"Barbra Jean, what are you doing?" Reba questioned.

"Oh My Gosh, Reba! I am so happy for you! So sorry I couldn't be your maid of honor, but it's good because I'd probably steal all the attention, with my hot new body and my important role in the news industry," Barbra Jean began to ramble on with excitement, Reba completely addled by Barbra Jean's action.

"Wait a minute, why the heck did you yell at me just then?" Reba asked.

"Reba, remember how I said I wouldn't handle if Brock left me, and he almost did once," Barbra Jean received a nod of comprehension from Reba,"Well, he needs to learn, and I can't act all weak just because of that. I want to hurt him." Reba began to understand, until she grabbed her in another hug," Oh, Reba, I'm such a horrible person!"

"No, you're not, if you stop changing moods every five seconds." Reba attempted to pull Barbra Jean's tight hands off of her. "Look, I understand what you mean."  
"What with the our divorce, now this,"Barbra Jean began.

"I know, Brock and I will solve this as soon as possible, I'm going to contact a lawyer today after work," Reba told her, glancing at the clock.

"No, that's not what I want, Reba, you need to stay with him!" Barbra Jean looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Are you crazy?" Reba stood up from the stool she had been sitting on. Barbra Jean smiled at her.

"Reba, this may have been an accident, but you guys are meant to be! Why don't you just give it a try?" Barbra Jean told her," Reba, stop," Reba had been shaking her head feverishly," Look, you are just too stubborn to admit it but I know you like him, sometimes I even think you like him more than me!" Barbra Jean declared.

"Is that what you really think?" Reba queried, getting a nod from Barbra Jean."Well then, it's dumber than a sack of chicken poop!" Barbra Jean gasped in shock.

"Mrs.H, I'm hungry." Van walked in. Giving an exasperated sigh, she told Barbra Jean,"I forgot how I had to feed him, now Barbra Jean leave." Obeying, Barbra Jean headed for the door, humming _Can You Feel The Love Tonight._

"But tell Brock we still need to discuss this on our next divorce movie date!" Barbra Jean reminded Reba, adding excitedly,"He's taking me to see that new movie!"

"What about those divorce dates?" Reba inquired.

"Oh, those don't work too well, because we can't stop ripping off each other's clothes," Barbra Jean explained with a flourished grin, earning a shutter of disgust from Reba. Getting the point, she left the house.

"Uh, Mrs.H, you OK?" Van questioned, taking a seat on one of the stools. Reba turned to face him, forgetting he was in the room.

"I know, it's just out of all the people and him not being fully divorced. his just gets so complicated, and with the opinions of five kids---" Reba began until Van interrupted her, "Uh, Mrs.H, do the talking while you fix me up a sandwich ,please." Van eyed the refrigerator and then at her. Reba took time to give him a glare, then began making him a sandwich.

"No more, you know, yapping?" Van asked ,making hand motions, looking at her making a sandwich as if focusing on a hard math question.

"Van. It's fine, we're going to get divorced as soon as possible." Reba answered his question in an irked voice. She handed him the finished sandwich as Van took it in a suspicious manner.

"OK then, thanks Mrs.H." After taking the sandwich, he began to exit the kitchen, mumbling "What happens in Vegas, doesn't quite stay there, eh." Hearing his comment, Reba smirked glaring at the back of his head.

Taking a seat herself on the stool, she muttered,"Whoever made up that stupid quote is a total moron."

"So, what did you hear?" Cheyenne questioned her husband in a hushed tone, grabbing his arm.

"Ow," He whined,"I don't know, something about divorce and Barbra Jean going to the movies." Confused with her husband, she began to speak.

"Van. Be serious." She lectured him.

"Look, she told me they were going to get a divorce as soon as possible, plus if you're so nosy, why don't you ask her?" Van questioned his twenty three year old wife.

"They are going to get divorced?"Cheyenne attempted to confirm the information.

"I don't know." Van responded.

"They can't! I think it's a great idea. They've been moping around and they are going to be happy!" Cheyenne was beginning to see a plan in her head.

"Uh, not to burst your bubble, but you know your mom married your dad, right?" Van asked.

"Yes, we need to get them to get along. Another divorce would be stupid." Cheyenne began to see a possible role of matchmaker for her.

"But didn't you say it would be horrible if they got back together?" Van noted of his wife's quote from a few years back.

"Yeah, but we were living with her. Now, it wouldn't affect us as much if they screwed .Use your brain, Van."Cheyenne stated as if it was obvious.

"I see, so her happiness comes after our happiness," Van observed.

"Well, you made it sound wrong but kinda," Cheyenne voiced,"But I do believe she should be happy. She deserves it more than anyone else."

"So, you want her to stay with Mr.H as a reward?" Van questioned, shocked.

"Yes, and I know just how to do that." Cheyenne smiled, ideas beginning to fill her head.


	4. Chapter 4

Cheyenne smiled, beginning to turn her glance from her husband to the front of the living room.

"Uh, Cheyenne, what is your great plan? "Van questioned.

"Well, first we need to lie that they can't get divorced. Quick, Van, make up something. Trust me, Van, I know my mother. She won't admit it." Cheyenne ordered, thinking herself while looking around the house she used to live in. Van seemed offended by Cheyenne's demand.

"Well, why don't you make something up," Van queried, Cheyenne both annoyed and confused, while Van continued,"Since you're so good at it."

"What?" Cheyenne was confused at her husband's statement.

"Yesterday, you told Elizabeth that the tooth fairy uses the teeth she collects to build her castle. What the hell was that? Everyone knows it's for her fairy sized dog to chew on." Van told her, leaning on the railing of the stair.

"Well, that's how I heard from my parents," Cheyenne countered, never having heard such an absurd thought about the tooth fairy."Besides, shut up, Van." Kyra walked down the stairs, spotting her sister and brother-in-law.

"Did Barbra Jean leave?" Kyra questioned, worry was written all over her.

"Yeah, so Kyra, what do you think of the situation?" Cheyenne asked her little sister.

"I think it's stupid, I mean, is this all we do in this family? Mom should've known better and she hurt Barbra Jean so much! If this is some revenge on Barbra Jean, then it's low." Kyra vented.

"Woah, Kyra, what about Dad? Didn't he hurt her more?" Cheyenne countered.

"The point is Mom is much more responsible than that," Kyra informed her.

"Hey, doesn't Mom deserve a little irresponsiblity? She's always so tense." Cheyenne argued.

"Yeah, besides, who's responsible in Vegas?" Van added in an immature tone, winning a approving nod from Cheyenne.

Kyra looked defeated, wondering how she always gets a new perspective from the blond and the goof.

"Whatever, I'm going to practice with the band, figure this out yourself," Kyra told the two heading out the door. Cheyenne turning to face her husband, smirking. Her smirk transformed into a frown as her mother walked in, cup of coffee in hand.

"How's unpacking?" Reba questioned her son-in-law and daughter.

"So, um, Mom! What are you gonna do? About the, um, thing?" Cheyenne questioned her mother, carefully as if to receive much information as possible about her parent's unplanned wedding.

" Well, since we didn't get to do anything in those two days, we're probably gonna talk about the divorce." Reba answered her daughter's question.

"So, Mrs. H, did ya get any action with Mr. H?" Van asked, eyebrows raised, giddy in a juvenile way. Cheyenne shot him a disgusted look, her mouth opened in disgust. Reba gave him a blank expression.

"There was no action," She answered, feeling a sudden blush appear faintly on her cheek for some unknown reason. _Nothing happened, right?_

"Oh, she's blushing!" Van pointed at his mother-in-law, looking as if he discovered a cure for cancer. It ended when Cheyenne slapped him in the stomach.

"Stop it!" Cheyenne ordered her husband. Van obediently stopped. Cheyenne's attention soon turned to her mother.

Mom,you can't get divorced!" She squeaked out.

"Why?" Reba asked her eldest daughter.

"Because, it's bad," Cheyenne declared. Reba gave her a suspicious and doubtful expression. Fortunately for Cheyenne, Van came to the rescue.

"Mrs. H, last week this couple was fighting over this house. They found out that her husband was already married to another woman and they never fully got divorced so he got in tons of trouble." Van informed Reba.

"So?" Reba inquired.

"Mom, the point is you don't want to get Dad in trouble." Cheyenne reasoned.

"Yep," Van agreed, nodding his head.

"So that means I have to divorce him." Reba told them.

"No, look, Mom, he's in the middle of a divorce, it would ruin everything for Barbra Jean in the custody." Cheyenne told her mother. Reba was thinking deeply," Look, Mom, can you just try?"

"Well, when you put it that way, whatever you were trying to get through to me," Reba reasoned, then added,"NO!"

"What, please Mom!"

Please, Mrs.H!" Van copied his wife in pleading his mother-in-law.

"Look, mommy, please for me!" Cheyenne pouted to her mother, Reba rolling her eyes."Mom, if you do it, we'll stop by less."

"What? Cheyenne?" van glanced at his wife, trying to inform her she had said the wrong thing, murmuring to Cheyenne" What are we gonna eat?"

"Shut up, Van, I can cook," She muttered through a smile at her mother. "So? Will you? What have you got to lose and you don't want Dad to get in trouble."

Reluctantly, Reba agreed.

"Hey Kyra," Brock Hart stopped in front of the house, his youngest daughter sitting deeply in thought on the bench. Snapping out of her thinking after her father's greeting, she quickly tried to cover up with another sarcastic comment.

"I hope you weren't out looking for a third wife."

"Ha ha," Brock sarcastically replied to the eighteen year old's comment. He took a seat in front of her.

"Kyra, what do you think? Of your mom and me?" Brock asked her.

"It doesn't matter, it already happened. And I'm not your therapist,Dad." Kyra answered her father's question as if she didn't care the least.

" Kyra, I know this is out of the ordinary,but I wanna know how you feel." Brock tried to get her to open up.

"You wanna know how I feel?" Kyra asked, earning a nod from Brock,"I think this is unreasonable, how could stuff like this even happen? Mom is such a responsible person."

Out of words, Brock defended Reba,"Well, a person could be so perfect that one day she just doesn't want you want to be so technical everyday, trying to raise a family? I mean, with me added, she must be so stressed." Kyra nodded, letting his words sink in.

"Do you want to try?" Kyra asked

"Hmm?" Brock questioned, confused with his daughter's question.

"You know,work it out with Mom?" Kyra inquired, glancing at the door of the house.

"Well, it would be worth a try." Brock smiled.

"After all these years, do you still love her?" Kyra questioned. Brock couldn't answer. He really didn't know.

"I don't know," He truthfully answered, then added," It's hard not to love someone you've known half your life though." Kyra nodded. Her blue eyes refused to meet her father's.

"Sweetheart, are we OK?" Brock questioned, standing up and extending his arms. Smiling, she accepted his hug.

"Dad, I'm gonna go out. See you later," Kyra smiled, heading the other way. With a wide smile, Brock entered the house. Reba was picking up the stuff Jake had left on the floor.

"Hey." Brock greeted her with uncertainty.

"Reba" "Brock" Both started at the same time. Brock motioned Reba to go first.

"Well, the kids say we should try working it out." Reba told him, every sign of awkwardness reigning in her voice.

"I agree with them," Brock silently mumbled. Reba glanced at him, about to give him comment but thought better of it.

"Well, I will try, so if you do, we should," Reba told him, "I actually thought this through. It would be dumb to put everyone through hell again."

"OK," Brock smiled, heading out the door.

"Where are you going?" Reba questioned him.

"To golf," He replied, already out the kitchen, then added more to himself ,"Man, I really need more hand creme."

**(A/N: Sorry for not updating in a long time. School started and I gotta bunch of projects... Thanks for reading! Please comment!!! Thanks.)


	5. Chapter 5

_You can do this_.

Max Daniels told himself standing outside Reba Hart's real estate cubicle area. From Max's point of view, she seem to be concentrating deeply on something but Reba was actually thinking about the whole situation she was in. Max wiped his hands on his pants. Hesitant, he knocked three times on the wall. Looking up, Reba gave him a gentle smile after breaking out of her thoughts. At this point, Max had hoped she never noticed how he always sneaks at peek at her.

"Hey, Reba, so, are you busy Saturday?" He tried to sound as casual as he could. Reba bit on lips. Sure he was a great guy, but, well he was kind of short, about a head shorter than her, if you saw him head up, he was quite handsome, with hazel eyes and wavy brown hair.

"Reba?" Max questioned, already seeming like he regretted to take this dare.

"Oh, well, I can't! I'm with someone." Reba told him as gently as he could.

"You. You are?" He stuttered, glancing the ring on her third ringer.

"I'm so sorry." She apologized.

Max walked out, smiling weakly. After he was out of sight, she began began pounding her head against the desk. "Can't believe I used that stupid excuse." she muttered.

* * *

Work ended shortly and Reba found herself through the canned goods aisle in the glanced through the different soups proven to help diets. Afterwards, she headed to the register but something caught her eye. A bottle of hand creme was on the shelf, the kind Brock always used. Hurriedly, she took one and headed to the register. She arrived to an empty house. Never having been so empty and quiet, she proceeded to putting the groceries on the counter and headed for the couch, she turned on the TV, flipping through four or five channels before settling on a talk show about a famous country singer. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Brock came home from the back door. He glanced through the window on the wall separating the living room and kitchen. He remembered all the times she would fall asleep on his shoulder when they were himself a chuckle at his own joke, he opened the fridge in search of food. On instinct, he glanced at the clock and decided he could whip up something to eat for dinner. A white, plastic bag caught his attention and he dug through it, taking out its contents one by one. A bottle of skin creme caught his attention. Surely, Reba doesn't use this. Hesitant, he glanced at her again, then at the skin creme. A realization hit him. She bought it for him. For him. Like a wife would. Smiling to himself, he took the fresh groceries and began making dinner. Reba awoke, disturbed by the sound in the kitchen. She stumbled to the kitchen, stifling a yawn. Rubbing her eyes, she entered the kitchen. Brock turned to face her.

"Dinner will be done in five more minutes," He looked at her with pleading eyes, even with a hint of sorrow that he wasn't prepared for her. Aware of Brock's actions and realizing how long her nap was, she placed herself next to him.

"Spaghetti and steamed vegetables." He stated. Reba was pleased and gave him a wide smile.

"Sit down, my lady." He gestured to the table, pulling out a chair for her. Giggling, she obeyed, whether it was the well deserved nap or the smell of dinner, she had a feeling of sudden adrenaline. Brock came over, two plates were placed on the table, as he grabbed a bottle of champagne and two cups. Reba had began eating and made sounds of contentment.

"Mmm" She murmured, after a large bite of spaghetti. Brock eyed her, then poured her some champagne. The two was enjoying a nice dinner, until Jake came in.

"Hey, I'm starving," He stopped when he saw his parents enjoying a very "romantic" dinner,"Bow-chicka-bow-bow." He mischievously grinned, running out the room. Reba looked down at the food.

"Jake! Your dad made dinner!" Reba yelled after her thirteen year old son.

"Wow, I made you dinner before. I gonna go to Van and Cheyenne's house!" Jake shouted back,rushed and eager, signalling his exit with a slam of the door

After dinner, Brock collected the dirty plates as Reba sat, twirling her fork around her fingers. She stood up, and wrapped her arms around his waist from the back. Brock turned around and smiled.

"If my hands weren't dirty and I would hug you back." He joked. Shaking her head, she laughed.

"You perv, I was gonna wash the dishes and thank you for wonderful dinner. What was the occasion?" Reba questioned, taking the dirty plates from his hands.

"Nothing." Brock grinned, leaning over her shoulders as she began washing the dishes.

"The chocolate desert was really good,"Reba reminisced over the delicious cake.

"I never got to try some," Brock whined.

"Your fault, you made too little." Reba told him, flicking water at him. Brock made a notion of annoyance, but continued.

"You mind if I try some?" Brock questioned grinning from ear to ear. Before she could answer, Brock's lips landed softly on hers. She had now fully turned around and the spark ignited. She feverishly wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Woah, save that for the bedroom," the two broke apart and turned to face Kyra. She smirked with her arms crossed. Reba stumbled to close the running water.

"Sorry, honey, your dad made dinner," Reba helplessly made up an excuse.

"I know, heard all about it," Kyra told them, heading out the back door,"Nice excuse, though."

Reba began wiping her mouth and moved away from Brock.

"Look, I'm sorry, I think I got wrapped up in the moment," Brock told a very confused and embarrassed Reba.

"Well, that's how everything happens, huh? From Barbra Jean accidently getting pregnant to that night," Reba reasoned,"Now look where it got us. We can't undo it."

"Yeah, so we're working it out.I thought you were willing to work out from when you bought me my skin creme," Brock rambled on.

"What do you mean about the skin creme?" Reba inquired.

"I don't know, I assumed," Brock began, but was interrupted by Reba.

"No, Brock, one bottle of skin creme and a nice dinner won't make me let you smother all over 't you get it? try by regaining my trust," She had turned around.

"Reba," Brock started.

"No, Brock, you hurt me." Reba stormed upstairs, tears trailing down her cheeks.

* * *

Helplessly, Brock headed after her. She had closed the bedroom door.

"Reba, let me in," He pounded on the door. There was no answer. His cell phone began ringing. Hoping it was Reba, he urgently took out his cell phone. It was Jake.

"Dad, can you pick me up from Van and Cheyenne's?" Jake questioned his father.

"Sure, I'll be there in a few minutes, why can't you walk home?" Brock added.

"Dad, I just ate food that Cheyenne cooked and Mom said not to walk alone at night."Jake told his father. Deciding not to add that Rhonda has a no-children-in-the-car code now.

Heading down the stairs, he took his car keys and began to get in the car. Taking out his cell phone again, he called the house phone.

Hi, This Is Reba Hart, If you have a message, please leave a message at the beep. _Beep!_

"Hey, Reba, I'm going to go to pick up Jake. Listen, I really meant everything. I want to work it out because. Well, because of you. Just hoping you will too. I don't know what I'm feeling but it was definitely this is fate, destiny. You know I'm not that religious but I'm saying something. Please, I need to know what you're feeling. You have every right to be mad at me. That's all. Bye."

Brock sighed, putting his phone in his pocket, then ignited the car and headed to his oldest daughter's house. Reba was looking out the window, holding the phone in her hand. She sat down on her bed and clicked on the replay button on the phone.

"Hey, Daddy!" Cheyenne wrapped her arms around her father. They stood at the doorway, Jake was already opening the passenger seat door.

"Heard you finally tried to work it out," Cheyenne winked. Brock stuffed his hands in his pocket, then ran a hand through his noticed something was wrong, which lead to her next question.

"What's wrong?"

"We, well, it didn't go well. I don't know what happened. She just got mad at me." Brock explained to Cheyenne, who had crossed her arms.

"Dad!" Jake had called from the car.

"Gotta go, thanks, honey. Tell the kids I said hi," Brock ran to the car. Cheyenne watched him from the doorway, then entered the turned to her husband.

"Van, we need to help them," She informed him.

Reba heard the car drive up and sat up. she distinctly heard Jake enter his bedroom and saying goodnight to Brock. She opened the door, Brock turned to face her.

"Reba, I---" No more. Reba had stopped him. She walked up until she was a few centimeters from him. Then she placed her arms around his neck. Confused but pleased she wasn't halfway beating him up, he circled his arms around her waist. Her next action surprised him even further. Her lips touched his cheek.

"Maybe, I overreacted." Reba told him. Brock was in awe, it was hard for her to admit she was wrong."You see..."


	6. Chapter 6

"You see, Brock , I'm scared." Reba told him.

"I know," Brock murmured in her red hair,"I know." Reba was never so open with him, especially during these last few years.

"It's everything that happens. You don't know how hard it is for me to trust me again. When I think something is happening. That kiss! I was so confused." Reba turned pink at the thought of his lips on hers.," And I always wonder what made you leave me. Sure I've gotten older---""Reba! Don't blame it on yourself. Please, it's my own stupid brain. I left a perfect woman, my best friend."

"Please, you make it sound like we're in some T.V. show," Reba let out a grin, falling deeper in his embrace.

"Yeah, but I meant it." Brock muttered. This caused Reba to reluctantly let go of him.

"I want you to be completely honest with me." She firmly told him as if it was a demand.

"OK." Brock agreed.

"What do you really, really feel about me?" Reba questioned, meeting his blue eyes with hers.

"I would say that you tend to be strong headed and beautiful but that's what I always loved about you."

"Brock! Stop sugarcoating everything." Reba demanded him, more like a complain.

"No, really, that's what I really thought."

"OK, what do you think about Barbra Jean?" Reba switched to the next topic. This topic seem harder for Brock.

"I admit that I enjoyed it with her. Everything was just so carefree. She wasn't all telling me what to do. It was always like a fling though.I always tried to tell myself I didn't marry her only because she got knocked it felt like that" Brock truthfully told Reba. Reba nodded, understanding what he was talking about.

"Okay," Reba told him.

"That's it?" Brock was surprised she wasn't pounding on him or questioning him more.

"It's late, good night Brock," Reba told him with a faint smile.

"Good night, Reba,"Brock replied.

* * *

The next morning, Reba headed downstairs. The first thing she saw was Brock on the couch, eating from a bag of chips. It reminded her of the usual Sundays the two had experienced for years.

"Hey, good morning, dear," Brock greeted her, turning his attention to Reba. She smiled. For some reason, it didn't bother her.

"You're up early," She noted as Brock walked to her and stood next to her.

"Well, it was hard to sleep on the couch, you know," Brock defended, rubbing his back for a few seconds.

"Sorry, but it's the couch or the pull out couch in the garage," Reba told him, an odd excitement within her.

"I'll take the couch. So I can be closer to you," His arm somehow slithered around her out a giggle, she wrapped her arms around his neck as his lips began meeting hers in a playful kiss.

"Brock suddenly broke out of their kiss, whether he was unaware of his action and she refused to meet his eyes.

"Well, I made breakfast." He told her, then specified,"Eggs."

"I'm not that hungry," She told him, a hint of disappointment in her voice. This had become so common, she looked forward to him.

Reba entered her kitchen and headed towards the fridge. She grabbed the carton of orange juice and without attention, poured the juice in a cup to the brim. Looking through the window on the wall separating the wall, Brock had resumed to watching football.

* * *

"Marissa, your job is to flirt with my dad OK? Be really mean to my mom, like you look down upon her." Cheyenne instructed one of her friends from college. After realizing they wanted to get involved in this, Van and Cheyenne came up with a scheme and immediately contacted one of their old college friends. After a discussion with Barbra Jean that lasted less than an hour, they know exactly how to do this. Marissa nodded,smoothing her dress. Her skin contrasted to the pale butter yellow dress. Cheyenne knew her father would goo goo over her, but it wouldn't be serious. Her big brown eyes and crown of unkempt wavy hair, along with the figure of a model would result in that. Cheyenne smiled at her, then gave a thumbs up before heading around the house. Marissa Sanchez stood firmly in her inch high heels and rang the doorbell.

* * *

"I'll get it!," Brock from inside the house informed Reba. He headed for the door and opened it. Yes. It already started working.

"Uh, you looking for someone?" Brock questioned, eyeing her from head to toe.

"No, for you," She told him, her manicured hand was placed on his chest,""

Brock began backing up as she inched closer to him.

"Do I know you?" Brock was confused.

"Maybe." She answered playfully, pulling him closer to her.

Meanwhile, Reba confused, was about to walk in until Cheyenne popped in from the back door. She was trying to act clueless but Reba was too focused on the two in the living room to notice the act her daughter was throwing.

"Hey, mom, whatcha doing?" Cheyenne tried to peek as Reba sharply turned to her.

"Nothing," A slight blush began to form on her cheek. She began to place her empty cup in the sink. She added, with anger in her voice,"Just that she doesn't realize that he's married? I mean, I don't think it's OK to flirt with someone's husband."

Cheyenne smiled. This was working and Marissa was doing a great job! Her acting was almost to the point of exaggeration.

"Ma, are you jealous?" Cheyenne questioned, eyeing her mother.

Hesitantly, she answered with Barbra Jean's trademark lying face,"No."

"Mom!"

"I'm just,well, that girl needs to learn her manners, waltzing into my house, then flirting with my, I mean, Brock," She defended herself, correcting her last word.

"Whatever you say, Mom." Reba was obviously very nervous about everything and had began pouring another cup of orange juice.

"You want me to stop them?" Cheyenne asked her mother.

"Would you?" Reba sarcastically inquired her oldest daughter. Cheyenne nodded, heading into the living room.

"Hey, Dad!" Cheyenne noted her father was between anxiety and pleasure.

"Cheyenne?" Marissa was a great actress. She acted quite surprised and excelled in being bitchy about it.

"Marissa, what are you doing?" Cheyenne asked, slowly walking towards her, fists on her waist. Marissa took this as a signal and ran out the house through the front door.

"Daddy, how could you?" Cheyenne turned to her father for his reaction.

"I didn't have anything to do with this, I swear!" Brock put up his hands.

"Really?"

"Yes." Cheyenne nodded, then headed out,giving him a last warning, then going out ,"If you hurt Mom again,"

"Marissa!" Cheyenne chased after her friend.

"My gosh, that was amazing!" Cheyenne told her, as Marissa bowed, smiling.

As the two women laughed, things were different in the house.

* * *

Reba suddenly felt really rushed to the bathroom. Obviously, Brock noticed. He followed her as she rushed to the bathroom. By the time he got there, she was somewhere in between throwing up.

"Reba? Are you alright?" Brock cautiously questioned Reba, who was puking into the toilet, as he stood in the doorway. She stood up, and began rinsing her mouth in the sink after flushing the toilet.

"I'm good. It's nothing," She told him, as she patted him, walking past him. Brock helplessly followed her. She sat on the couch and let out a sigh, her hands rested on her stomach. Brock stood behind her, unaware of what to do.

"Brock?" Reba's voice called for him softly.

"Yeah?" Brock asked.

"Can you get me the orange juice?" Reba questioned, pleading.

Confused, he headed into the kitchen.

* * *

(A/N:Hey! Sorry for the slow update... I had writing projects and it was the beginning of the semester. Wahhh...I have A-'s. :P... Well, Tell me what you thought! Comments always make my day!

p.s. if you're a twilight fan, check out my Twilight fanfiction! Thanks for reading!)


	7. Chapter 7

"Just bring the entire carton," Reba ordered, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Shortly, Brock returned with the orange juice. Reba snatched it from him, as Brock took a seat next to her. Reba shot him a suspicious look, then glanced at the carton side.

"It's expired, you moron!" Reba whacked his head with the cold orange juice carton.

"Ow!" Brock stood up, protecting himself with his hands," Why is it my fault?" He questioned, still holding his hands in front of him.

"Well, you're supposed to throw it out," Reba told him as it was a reasonable answer.

"Why me?" Brock defended.

"Why you? Shut up! That's why!" Reba yelled at juice carton was in her hand. Her anger made Brock scared that she might spray the orange juice all over him.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Brock apologized.

Reba stared at him.

"Look. I'm tired of fighting over every little thing. Can you just let it go?" Brock told her with frustration. He left Reba silent for a few moments," Reba?"

"No, you're right. One second you're kissing, the next flirting with some slut." Brock told him.

"Hey, I didn't do anything! Don't I get credit for that?" Brock's voice slightly raised.

"Yes, you don't get credit for getting hitched with me in 're ignoring at the situation." Reba showed him the ring on her ring finger.

"That's not true!" He retorted.

"Really? Have you noticed we haven't been in contact with Barbra Jean for almost a week. That's impossible , unless we moved to an alternate universe! " She hysterically told him.

"Maybe,maybe I rather sleep in the garage!" Brock tried to end the argument.

"Go ahead, see if I care," Reba gave him a hand signal to leave.

"Stop, all you do is fight, maybe that's why nothing works!" Jake yelled from upstairs.

Brock took his part and headed out the door.

"Hey, Reba daba doo!" Barbra Jean entered the house.

"Barbra Jean. Just the person I was looking for," Reba entered the house.

"No comments? You're not making some joke," Barbra Jean was taken back from Reba's unusual niceness.

"No," Reba sighed as Barbra Jean took a seat on the chair.

"So," Barbra Jean leaned in, as if it was juicy gossip," How are you two lovebirds?"

"I kicked him out a week ago, he's in the tree house." Reba told her, not meeting her in the eyes.

Apparently, this shocked Barbra Jean.

"What? Why?"

"I don't know,"Reba, a bit disgruntled at the topic," He was flirting with some little, little donkey butt,"

"He did,?" Barbra Jean questioned, obviously Reba a little taken back by her excitement.

Oh my god,"Barbra Jean couldn't help letting out a grin.

"Wait have you two spoken?" Barbra Jean questioned her.

"Well, he eats here and uses what he needs," Reba told her.

"Hate to break it to you, but you didn't kick him him out," Barbra Jean informed her.

"Wait, do you know something I don't?" Reba questioned, full of brimming venom.

"Zip, nothing." Barbra Jean made the notion of zipping her lips, already letting out too much information.

Reba began eyeing her that she became uncomfortable.

"Barbra Jean..."  
"CheyenneandVanuseditasaplantomakeyoujealous!" Barbra Jean blurted out.

"What?" She asked, standing up.

"What?" Barbra Jean tried to be confused.

"What did you just say?" Reba put emphasis on all the words.

"I said," Barbra Jean used a face," That tomorrow Brock and I are going to court."  
"Then, why did I hear Van and Cheyenne?" Reba knew she was lying.

"Because," Barbra Jean came up with another excuse," they are coming."

"You know, I'm gonna leave now!" With that Barbra Jean ran out, Reba rolling her eyes.

Brock had entered the house, his golf clubs hung over his shoulder.

"Oh, hoping you weren't here." Brock refused his eyes.

"Yeah, well, Barbra Jean told me tomorrow's your court day. Time to work your magic again." Reba smirked at him.

"Ha ha," Brock told her, " The only magic I wanna work on is with you."

"Brock! Give me some time. I miss you like heck but I, I don't know. Something's there holding me back! Like everything's gonna go wrong, but it's like something that's so good but horrible," Reba looked as if she was going to cry.

"I never thought you'd feel like that," Brock went next her.

"what do you mean?" She leaned into him as he wrapped one arm around her. She wrapped her arms around his waist eventually.

Brock chuckled,"You mean you don't regret," He hesitated," us?"

"Sometimes," Reba reasoned," but who doesn't hate you at times?" she gave him a wide grin.

"I wanna skip all this fighting and making up," Reba told him.

"Tell me about it, how bout just skippin' to making up?" Brock joked.

"But-"

"Shh, everything is gonna be just fine." Brock comforted her, kissing her hair.

_Everything will be fine._

_And with that,_

she kissed him.

(A/N:OMG..well,this was like a filler chap...I'll get to the action! next chapter, I promise. But YOU have to give me some feedback....please. Well, sorry for delay and next delay coming up. I bet you all fell for the trick that she was pregnant in ch6 it was just expired orange juice+nervous reba. lol maybe later....

I have homework.... and the Reba concert on Feb 28 at the Honda Center!!!!!(jumping in glee right now)

Hey did you know Steve Howey and Sarah Shahi are married and she's four months pregnant?? the mini-Van!

Sorry if there are bad mistakes.. I was gonna post it on Saturday.

Thanks for reading!)


	8. Chapter 8

After the second court of Barbra Jean and Brock's divorce, Brock felt confident in giving Reba a surprise. Something had been lifted off his shoulders. He and Reba are getting there, slow though. He arrived to an empty house, Reba had informed him she had a meeting. Great. He began to order flowers, two dozen. Then he began to take strawberries dipped in chocolate, wine, and utensils out to the tree house. there he set some candles he planned to light 5 minutes before she arrives. The doorbell rang, as he strode to the door expecting the florist.

"Reba!" He opened the door."What are you doing here?"

"It's my house," She gave him a flirtatious yet annoyed glance.

"I know, I thought you had a meeting," Brock took her jacket from her.

"Yeah, tomorrow." Reba gave him a confused lookas Brock pulled her into a hug for a few seconds.

"I missed you at work," She murmured. Brock, in return, chuckled, kissing her on her forehead, rocking her in his arms. After there talk, they have gotten closer and they could tell she was much happier than they have seen her in a long time.

Brock then had to come up with a way to talk her not to enter the kitchen. "Hey, dear, why don't you go take a nice hot bath upstairs," Brock inquired her.

"Why?" She suggestively flirted.

"No reason, just I wanna you know get you to relax," Brock made up a reason, for emphasis he began kissing her softly. The doorbell rang. She broke out of their embrace, and headed for the door.

"Reba, what are you doing?" Brock took hold of one of her arms.

"The doorbell rang" She looked at him as if he was insane.

"I'll get it!" Brock told her.

"No, geesh, Brock!" Reba opened the door. A young man stood at the door, holding two dozen of red roses.

"Roses for Reba Hart." He informed. Reba shot Brock a glance and took the flowers.

"Thank you." Brock refused to meet her eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Brock! Did you get these for me?" Reba took a hold of the note as Brock still refused to look at here, slightly embarrassed.

"To My Dearest, Nothing can compare to thy beauty,For you, these roses An insignificant comparision To you, my love," Reba read aloud, smile growing larger.

"Brock!" She snaked an arm around his," That was so sweet." She placed her hand on his cheek, taking him into sight and the two shared a kiss.

"I'm going to put these in water." She began walking to the kitchen.

"Hey, Reba? Um, why don't you put them upstairs. So, uh, um, you can think of me." Brock made up an excuse for her to not enter the unprepared area.

"Great." She smiled, giving him one more peck and heading up the stairs.

Brock quickly rushed into the kitchen to the smell of something burning.

"No!" He headed to the oven, pulling out a partially burnt lasagna. He managed to cut out an intriguing shape, hiding the burnt parts. He placed the two on the table.

Reba walked back down, then paused when she saw everything.

"What is today?" She playfully questioned him, placing herself on the chair Brock pulled out.

"Nothing," He began pouring two cups of wine.

"Brock, how was court?" Reba had to ask, something just caused so much , though? She should be happy that he was back in her arms and Barbra Jean, the one that stole him, is getting hurt. Or is he is just scared of being lonely?

"Just fine, we agreed on most issues." Brock told her, as he began eating the lasagna, which consisted of most of the burnt parts of the lasagna.

"Barbra Jean asked if you would go bowling with Henry," Brock immediately froze after what Reba told him. He had to choose between his son and the woman he was trying to impress.

"Brock? I told her that you might next Saturday, and you can take Jake and Elizabeth." Reba added, much to his relief," I might too."

"Cool" He smiled, and as soon as he realized Reba was done, he stood up. He placed out a hand and Reba gladly accepted.

"We're going somewhere.?" Reba couldn't help let out a smile. He placed his palms over her eyes and led her out to the back yard. Brock then had to reveal to her his surprise because he knew she couldn't climb up the treehouse blinded and he can't carry her. She stared at the treehouse as Brock motioned her to climb.

* * *

"Mmm," Reba let out a delighted sigh. She flicked the little stem of the strawberry as she took a look around. The two, isolated, sat on a blanket. Reba glanced around from the candles to the the picnic of treats.

"Maybe I won't regret marrying you again," Reba joked, a twinkle in her eye as she smiled.

"I won't if you let me do this more often," Brock suggestively told her.

"What is it?" Reba inquired.

Without another word, Brock's lips collided with hers. Reba scooted closer as he caressed her face with his hands. She moaned in delight with the sparks, the intensity, everything.

Reluctantly, the two broke apart."Mm," Reba let out a faint sigh that Brock heard. He winked at her and the two sat closer together.

"I realized we never had a true honeymoon," Brock added suggestively.

"Oh, no, slow down, hon," Reba smiled.

"I know, come on," Brock stood up, stepping up, as Reba obeyed and the two stood arm in arm in the treehouse. How clever this hideout was. Brock began twirling her hair as he lead some way.

"When'd you learn to dance?" Reba was amused as she took Brock's hand. And the two danced, to the music of silence. They remained in each others arms for the next few minutes, both not wanting to let go. Brock then lied down as he settled more into the treehouse.

"Lie down here." Brock motioned for her to lie down next to him. She smiled, snuggling closer to him. Maybe for one night she didn't have to pretend her heart didn't ache, the sparks didn't exist, this was fate.

She smiled. In his arms, she was able to be her for now. With that, she fell asleep in his arms in that treehouse.

(A/N: Hey....sorry for the mushiness, the delay... better stuff will be coming though!

check out my new Reba MaMa Mia trailer on youtube!!!

greatly appreciate you reading it. Thanks a whole bunch and reviews make me happy. So make me happy!! *hinthint*....

I know it's kinda rushed and mushy, the romance....but yeahh

Once again thanks!)


	9. Chapter 9

Reba awoke to the warm breath of Brock breathing in her hair. His ticklish breath made her smile as she snuggled closer in his arms. Instinctively, his arms locked around her seemed so reminiscent. In that tree house, it was like a sanctuary as they were covered under Brock's jacket. It was cold. Yet timeless in that tree house. She, even more confident in their relationship, kissed him softly on the lips. Out of the blue his lips kissed her back as his arms draped around her waist. In delight, she began to unbutton his shirt as he, surprised, continued to passionately kiss her. Unwilling, she broke out their kiss, breathing hard. Brock was disheveled, his hair a complete mess thanks to Reba.

"When did you wake up?" Reba laughed, linking one arm around his.

"When you electrified me!" He gave her a peck gently on her temple.  
"Well, that was really close," Reba then added.

"Yeah," He agreed, his blue eyes only on her.

"All of this was so confusing. She didn't what to do. Her relationship with Brock was history. Ancient history and everything they gone through shouldn't be popping up in her mind. This game should be over, he was over with her. He belonged with Barbra Jean, but the thought it was only because of Henry pops up in her mind. But every time, every single time, he looked at her or kissed her, everything seems like it would be fine, even just for a second. Why? Why though?

"What time is it?" Reba quietly inquired, as the two gathered their belongings. Reba slowly put on her heels as Brock brushed his hair with one hand, then buttoning up his shirt.

"Reba, wait," Brock chased after her, two buttons done wrong.

"Look, Reba, I did--" Brock started until Reba interrupted him with a kiss, her arms were linked around his neck, desperate and yearning.

"Brock, I give up!" Reba told him.

"What?" Brock was now utterly confused, after that kiss.

"I, Reba was stricken with the wildest excitement," Want you,"

"Oh," Brock breathed out.

"OH?! Is that all, oh? How bout you?" Reba began yelling" I mean, how do you feel?"

"Well, I told you before." Reba blankly stared at him, as Jake rushed past them hurrying off to school, rolling his eyes at his parents' usual bickering.

"I gotta go," Reba told him, refusing to meet his eyes as she headed up upstairs to freshen up for work. Brock, himself, just tidied himself up and headed out the back door.

* * *

When she arrived home, silence encircled her. He wasn't home yet, which was great. She wasn't ready to face him again. She put her purse down and entered the kitchen. As she entered, Barbra Jean smiled at her.

"Ahhh! Where did you come from?" Reba asked, putting a hand on her chest as she took hold of one chair.

"I have news for you!" Barbra Jean did a mini jump as if she couldn't suppress the news.

"If this is about your beanie babies, I don't care." Reba bluntly told her.

"No, but they are releasing a new beanie baby named after--- " Barbra Jean! I don't care" Reba interrupted Barbra Jean," Why are you here?"

She remained silent as she pulled out a paper she flashed in her face," Pop." She made a sound effect.

"What is it?" Reba asked, looking closely at the paper.

" and me are officially divorced." She informed her and Reba realized it was divorce papers.

"Already?" Reba was confused, noting that Brock and her divorce took nearly half a year.

"Reba, it's been two months," Barbra Jean shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"Why already?" Reba asked.

"Well, I don't know, we just kinda agreed on everything and he told me he wanted to get it over with. I don't know why, he just wanted time with Henry," Barbra Jean casually told Reba.

"Reba, what's the matter?" Barbra Jean was confused.

"It's just,I don't know what to say." Reba was utterly and deeply shocked now.

"Doesn't seem that odd to me." Barbra Jean disagreed.

"Well, we're still going bowling on Saturday, right?" Barbra Jean changed the subject, discreetly hiding the paper.

"Yeah, sure," Reba answered.

"Cool! Anyway,how are you lovebirds?" Barbra Jean smiled at her.

"Uh, thanks for the show and tell," Reba made an allusion to the divorce certificate.

"Come on, Reba, tell me," Barbra Jean begged.

"No!"

When was the last time you did a little bow chicka bow bow?" Barbra Jean hinted.

"Barbra Jean, that is private and our bow chicka bow bow is none of your business."

"Aha!" Barbra Jean pointed a finger at her, smiling,"So you have been doing something,"

"No, we haven't," Reba denied, truthfully, but turned a darker shade of red from when Barbra Jean first started talking about it.

"Reba, there's nothing wrong with it," Barbra Jean reassured her.

"Well, how do you feel about him?" Reba questioned.

"We're over. I'm over him and he's over me. You don't need to worry about me, Reba." Barbra Jean told her," but you, my friend, need to learn to trust him."

"But-" No buts, we're divorced now and you're married, there is no reason for you to be scared," Barbra Jean told her as if she was scolding a five year old for stealing cookies.

"it's a matter of trust, how do I know he really will stay?" Reba questioned, more to herself than to Barbra Jean.

"Can't you tell he really is trying?" Reba began to think and really he was!

"Another thought for you," Barbra Jean gave her a look," Try. You'll never know if you don't try."  
With that, she left, leaving her to her thoughts.

"Stupid," But that wasn't what she believed. Maybe. Just maybe, this could work.

* * *

"Hey," Brock greeted her as she was about to go upstairs.

"Hey," She replied, pausing on the stairs as Brock came up.

"I'm sorry," Brock told her. Then the idea sparked to Reba.

"Brock." She called.

"Mmm?"

"You wanna move to Cheyenne's old room?" Reba asked,folding her arms over her chest.

"Really? " Brock asked, it was just a wall away from her room.

"Yeah, you keep complaining about your back." Reba smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks," He grinned back.

"No problem, " She continued her smile, then called him for one more favor.

She kissed him, and after the kiss all Brock could do was softly mumble goodnight.

"Good night," Reba told him with a half moon smile as she made her way up the stairs.

"Good night," He softly whispered back.

(A/N: What do you think? Gah....well, I hope you all like it.... Now there shall be more action...shall shall shall.... Thanks for reading again...)


	10. Chapter 10

"Yes!" Brock let out a yell of victory after he performed a strike. Full of himself, he returned to the seats sitting next to Reba. A few rounds, his luck was jinxed as the ball landed in the gutter a few times.

"I must say, you might actually be better at this than golf," She smirked as Brock took one of her hands and kissed her. Cheyenne eyed her parents, again. The rest of the hour, Brock helped Henry and really got time to bond with his youngest Jean called off the bowling by taking them all to dinner. They decided to go a restaurant. Before they headed out, Reba went to the restroom. Cheyenne offered to accompany her.

In the bathroom, Cheyenne pulled on her mother's arm," Mom, are you back on with Dad?" Cheyenne asked, full of excitement.

"Cheyenne." Reba started.

"Mom, I'm not a child," Cheyenne gave her a smirk.

"Your father and I are back together," Reba finally let out.

"I knew it," Cheyenne looked simply joyful, You guys are not good at this secret love thing,"

This only led to a blushing Reba.

"Hey, are you guys almost done yet? I'm starving!" Elizabeth had managed to open the bathroom door and questioned the two adults. So quickly, they used the restroom and headed out to join the family. As soon as they reached them, Van let out an impatient complaint," Man, I am starving!"

Chuckling, Brock put his arms around Reba as they headed out the door. With no objection, Reba laughed as she snuggled closer to Brock. Cheyenne rolled her eyes as she took hold of her son from Van.

* * *

"Hello, how many tonight?" The boy asked, wearing a tired look. The family had decided to spend dinner at the spaghetti looked around and informed the employee there was nine.

"Ok, come this way," He led the way as he blabbed on," tonight there is a ball,"

"At a place that has a meatball hall of fame?" Reba questioned Brock with a smile as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand holding Henry's. They settled down in their seats and began to order foods. Van took Cheyenne off on the dance floor. Brock eyed Reba, trying to see if there was a sign she wanted to dance too. Then Henry's favorite song, or what it seems to be, as he jumped up dancing. Brock took his youngest son as Barbra Jean joined the two boys on the dance floor

Reba sat opposite of where Brock sat, with her chin resting in her palms, catching sight of little Henry between his parents on the dance floor. Barbra Jean did something silly as the two laughed. It was so real, carefree. Henry should have this happiness everyday. She decided. This boy wasn't just a demon child conceived of adultery, it was a little boy, so much like Brock. the blond hair, blue eyes, the devilish grin. Reba found herself tapping her foot as her mind drifted endlessly.

"Mom?" Jake's voice called for his mother.

"Mmm," she snapped out of her thoughts as Jake noticed her mother's behavior.

"You ok?" Jake questioned his mom.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why don't you go join them?" She nodded toward the rest of the family.

"Dancing is for girls," The fourteen year old informed Reba.

Smiling, she reached out to push back Jake's somewhat long hair," Says the boy who was in last week's play,"

"Mom! I was forced to," Jake was embarrassed.

"Sure you were, honey," She smiled as she stood up," If you're not going to, I'm going,"

Walking behind Jake, she gave him a pat on his shoulder. Once the music stopped, Henry receded to his step accompanied by Barbra Jean. Brock stood there as Reba slowly walked towards him.

"Hello," He grinned like an idiot as he pulled her into his arms. She placed her hands into his.

"Care to join me?" Brock whispered softly, his arm already around her waist.

"Way ahead of you," She laughed.

"This is our first dance as man and wife, huh?" Brock asked, only looking at her.

"Well, nice that it's at Spaghetti Hut, in this shirt," She looked at her own green top.

"I think you look pretty, as always," Brock began to wrap her closer to him.

"Yeah, at least I'm not dressed in what I wore to our so called wedding," Reba thought about what has occur ed.

"Hey, what happened to that night in the treehouse?" Brock asked.

"That was very romantic," Reba reassured him, her arms around his neck.

"Thank you," Brock kissed her on the lips. She didn't object. There was no use denying it. He was hers. Hers now. Strangely enough.

The background music seem so soothing to their dancing.

"Mom, it's time to go home," Cheyenne walked towards her mother with a wide smirk. Handing her mother her jacket and purse, she stared at her father then left saying "Bow chicka bow bow,"

Reba turned to Brock as a wide grin sweeped his face.  
"Daddy!" Henry rushed over grabbing on his father's leg," Can I stay over with you and aunt Reba tonight? Mommy said I can if you agree!" Henry rushed out, anxious for a yes.

"Of course you can, honey," reba had turned to tell the little boy.

"Awesome!" He raised his fists in just gave a thumbs up to his mother and Barbra Jean nodded to the couple and waved good bye to Henry, then to Reba and Brock.

* * *

As they arrived home, Henry ran around in joy.  
Hold on, cowboy!" Reba told Henry with a smile. Sometimes he could get a little out of control but nevertheless, he deserved to have lots of fun with his father. Jake had already upstairs. Reba headed into the kitchen.

Heading to the fridge, she began getting out cookies and juice she intended for the two boys to use.

"Aunt Reba, Daddy told me to brush my teeth and ask for some PJ's." Henry tugged on Reba's shirt quite roughly.

"Right away, hon," Reba warmly told him. The two decided to hang out in Cheyenne's old room.

After a few hours of jokes, games, and fun, the two decided to go to sleep. After Henry fell asleep, Brock headed next door to Reba's room.

After a few knocks, she opened the door.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Brock questioned.

"Brock, sweetie, I couldn't fall asleep to begin with!" Reba let out a small chuckle.

"Is it because I'm not here?" He riddled, knowing very well it was because they were loud, as he wrapped one arm around her.

"Maybe, what do you need?" Reba let out another laugh.

"This," Brock's lips crashed on hers. A devilish grin appeared on his face as she decided if she should show how much that gave her butterflies.

"Was that it?" Reba flirtatiously inquired him.

"Yeah, kinda," Brock scratched his head. He just needed to see her, like an addiction. She was ageless, timeless, beautiful.

"Well, I just wanted to say thanks," Brock continued," Reba, it means a lot for Henry to be here,"

"Why me, he is your son?" Reba curiously reasoned,"Thank yourself, Brock."

"Goodnight, Reba," Brock bid her.

"Good night to you too," Reba told him and Brock unknowing, attempted to kiss her. Reba turned and the kiss landed on her cheek. Without anything left, Brock began walking back to his room until Reba grabbed onto his arm and turned him around, kissing him fiercely on the lips...

(A/N SPRING BREAK IS HERE!!! ive been writing as fast as I could.....

well, review and stuff.......thanks for reading!)


	11. Chapter 11

"Goodnight," Reba whispered as they embraced. Without replying, he just kissed her softly again..

"Brock,goodnight," She told him with a grin.

"Goodnight," he replied

"Good morning, Cheyenne," Reba greeted her eldest daughter as she walked into the kitchen the next morning. With a smile and tune to hum, she poured herself some coffee.

Cheyenne had taken in Reba's weird perkiness as unusual.

"Gee, Ma, what's up?" Cheyenne questioned her mother, curious..

"Oh, nothing, hon," Reba absent-mindly told her, a huge smile still remaining on her face.

"Sooo...." Cheyenne began as if trying to get information, "You and Dad sure looked cozy last night,"

"Really," Reba tried hard not to smile, thinking of his arms around her.

"Yeah, so Jake told me that," Cheyenne led off.

"What?"Reba questioned.

"Well, he told me," Cheyenne began," Hey, is that a new shirt?"

"Cheyenne!" Reba let out, pulling up her purple shirt.

"Mom, you look great in purple!" Cheyenne exclaimed.

"Yeah, your dad always said I looked nice in purple," Reba revealed without thinking. A devilish grin swept onto the twenty three year old's face.

"Mother! You trying to look good for Dad," Cheyenne asked, knowing her answer.

"No!" She put on Barbra Jean's trademark lying face.

"What I was saying was Jake saw Dad knock on your door," Cheyenne informed her mother.

"And?" Reba had no clue why it was so important that her only son saw their parents talking.

"Well..." Cheyenne looked down," Are you guys using protection?"

"Cheyenne!" Reba turned a shade of red as she turned away from her daughter's casual glance.

"What? Mom!" Cheyenne looked a little shocked," please, tell me you're using something."

"Cheyenne, we haven't done anything yet," Reba told her daughter with exasperation, "Not since the wedding night,"

"Ohh." Cheyenne's confused look turned relaxed.

"Well," Cheyenne started out before Reba began again-"No, Cheyenne, can you ask a less personal question?"

"Gee, mom. I am a married mother of two, did you forget?" Cheyenne proudly stated.

"And you're my daughter," Reba gave her a smirk.

"That doesn't matter, I believe I gave you a similar talk a few years ago," Cheyenne referred to the time her mother dated Brian Collins," And I think we all should be involved if you and Dad are carelessly making us another little brother or sister,"

Reba's eyes widened with her oldest daughter's statement. "Cheyenne, we are not sleeping together. Period."

"I know, but you will," Reba raised her eyebrows as Cheyenne batted her lashes as she put emphasis on the last three words.

"You know you wanna, Mom. Don't deny it. There's no reason not to." Cheyenne told her mother, more as a warning. Their awkward conversation was interrupted by Van.

"Hey,morning Mrs. H," Van greeted as he took Cheyenne's coat.

"Honey, we need to go, Bye, Mrs.H. Um, sorry about the empty potato chips bag. I will buy you a new bag, pronto!" Van promised his mother-in-law with the tone of a five year old. With that said, the two set out of their former residence.

* * *

That whole day, Reba pondered if she was ready for Brock to be back in her life.

"Mom?" Reba turned to face her youngest daughter. Nineteen year old Kyra Hart stood a few feet from her pondering mother.

"Yeah, sweetie," reba questioned, disbelieving how her littlest girl was already nearing twenty.

"Did you see my demo CD?" Kyra inquired, "The one I let you borrow? I need it."  
"Oh, it's right here. You sound great, my dear. Obviously inherited from me!" Reba joked.

"Ha ha, Mom. Thanks." Kyra sarcastically told her mother, taking the CD, then proceeded to walk out the door.

"Mom?" Kyra paused.

"Yes," Reba addressed her daughter.

"Hey, what do you think of all this?" Kyra questioned.

"What do you mean?" Reba didn't understand.

"About my band, my decisions. I mean, you said I should go college. Should I have?" The questions Kyra asked were so unlike her confidence in the band.

"Kyra, it's your decision. I always thought I would become a famous country legend," Reba threw out her opinion.

"What kept you? Kyra wanted to know," From becoming that singer?"

It was followed by anticipated silence, until Reba answered," Your dad,"

"So, it's real now. You two together," Kyra looked down.

"Kyra, us being together has nothing to do with your decision, right?" Reba stepped closer and her fingers brushed through her daughter's long, red hair.

"Mom! No, but are you happy?" Kyra questioned," Is Dad what you really want?"  
"Why? Isn't this the part where you tell me I hurt Barbra Jean and resent me for it?" Reba lightly joked with the teenager.

"I know Barbra Jean is just fine. We talked It's like destiny. You and Dad, no matter what. You're--You're drawn back together like magnets." Kyra reasoned.

With the silence, Kyra continued.

"Maybe the band will still be there after I go to that possible, Mom?" Kyra wasn't sure . She loved her band, the guys in her band.

"We were offered two roads," Kyra began," We could go as an opening act for this indie alternative band, then there's this battle of the bands. The winner emerging from this band battle will win a full scholarship for a music school and better coverage in the press,"

"That's great, honey!" Reba smiled, pride for her daughter. It was evident how hardworking she was.

"We are leaning towards the battle of the bands, but I'm afraid a few years apart might separate us, plus you've been begging me to go to college,"

"Kyra, that isn't the point. I believe in whatever you do. Ya see, you've already got two deals! That's great," Reba encouraged her.

"Really?" Kyra looked quite scared.

" Honey, you guys have tons of time. Go with what you want," Reba told her.

"Thanks, Mom," Kyra pulled her mother into a hug," But promise me one thing,"

"What?"

"You follow your heart too," Without further hesitation, she left the house.

* * *

How did a stupid mistake in Vegas lead to all this? There she sat, watching the eight o' clock news and folding the clothes. It was so thoughtless and montonous she did this, she didn't even notice Brock sneak up behind her.

"Hey, I got some movies from Blockbuster. You wanna watch them?" Movies. Often when they were married, the two often watched movies together during the weekends.

"What did you get?" Usually Reba expected horror or stupid comedy movies but Brock picked out some "interesting" movies this time. He had Walk the Line, West Side Story, and Slumdog Millionaire.

"Walk the line?" Reba also laughed, grabbing the DVD from his hands as that ring on the ring finger glimmered.

"Heard you singing that song about Johnny and June a few days ago." Brock mentioned the Heidi Newfield song.

"Too bad my Johnny can't sing," Reba joked without thinking, looking at Brock.

"So, I'm guessing you wanna watch this one?" Brock asked, sitting down next to her.

"Who said? I love West Side Story!" Reba took a glance at Natalie Wood and Richard Beymer on the cover of the musical's DVD," Besides, Slumdog sounds like a great movie. But I have clothes to fold and a son upstairs that procrastinated on his book report,"

"Please, Reba! I'll fold them! Just relax and watch all three of them!" Brock pleaded.

"Fine," Reba agreed finding the DVD player remote and handed it to Brock. Happily Brock began folding up the clothes, occasionally snickering at the sight of Reba's clothes, well underclothes. Halfway through the first movie, he finished folding the clothes and sat back on the couch, his arms finding its way around Reba. They sat there, watching the movies as Reba snuggled more with Brock, he softly murmured nonsense in her soft hair.

"I want something sweet," Reba exclaimed in the middle of the second movie, as Brock obediently jumped out of his seat.

"No, honey, something sweet," Reba pulled on his arms. With a wide grin, he leaned down and kissed her. How delighted his kisses made her and what energy. They innocently missed the next five minutes of the movie by making out. Content, the two sat together in each others' arms until all three movies were watched.

Yawning, Reba didn't feel like getting up.

"Stay here with me," Brock huskily whispered. She looked in his blue eyes and relaxed on the couch. With grins as wide as the lovers in the movies they saw, they fell asleep. In each other's arms.

( How was it? So sorry for no Spring Break is over, meaning less update with state testing, eighth grade graduation, WAH!!!!!!!! nooooooooooooo...........

OK sorry, the three movies do not belong to me. And I've only seen West Side Story a few times and I loved it. Want to watch the other movies though. Tell me what you think via reviews! Thanks again for reading!)


	12. Chapter 12

"Good morning, beautiful," Reba could make out his warm breath lingering in her hair. She had her eyes remained close as she snuggled closer to him. One of her hands found their way around Brock's and the two hands linked together. His lips crossed the terrains of her forehead. She wrinkled her nose as his breath tickled her. Without opening her eyes, she remained in this state of paradise. Reba's lips trailed upwards and soon then they found their way to his. Reba soon got off the couch. Smiling at her beloved, she stretched slightly and informed him she was going to freshen up and change. Nodding, Brock understood and he stood up. Then he pulled her in another kiss. Their lips moved against each other again....and again... until Reba grinned and rushed up the stairs. For real this time.

When she found her way downstairs, the entire mess of popcorn and other movie accessories were taken care of. She walked into the kitchen to find Brock doing the crossword.

"Your breakfast is there." He nodded towards the plate next to his.

"What about you?" Reba questioned.

"Already ate." He simply stated.

"Thank you very much." She pulled the chair out and began to eat the assortment of fruit and eggs. A post it was on top of the fork's handle. Scrawled in Brock's dentist-in-a-rush-to-write-down-all-that-medical-crap handwriting, it read," I missed you terribly,"

Smirking at Brock, who pretended he had no inkling, Reba reached for a pen and the stack of post its. She decided to write on a pink one. She felt all girly today, wearing a floral shirt with her nice pair of white jeans.

"Why, I do too" She posted the note on top of Brock's newspaper.

Eyeing her, he grabbed the stack of pastel post its and the pen from her side and passed a note to her.

"You look pretty." It read.

"Very handsome'" Reba wrote back.

"Why, Thank you, my lovely"

"Delicious,"

"Yes, you are,"

"I meant the food! "

They spent the rest of breakfast passing post its to each other.

"Content?"

"Yes"

Brock took the empty plate from Reba, as Reba began to organize the post its, shades of yellow, pink, and orange in her hands. With a smile, she looked over the twenty something small sticky notes. She took them and ran up to Brock, washing the plate and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled her when she didn't expect it, splashing water all over the both of them. Laughing, his lips were on hers. A doorbell interrupted their moment as Reba complained of her wetness as they rushed to the opened the door expectantly.

"Hey Mommy!" Cheyenne greeted her mother carrying her one year old son. Van, Barbra Jean, Henry, and Elizabeth stood behind her.

"Hey," Reba tried to cover the odd wet spots all over her shirt.

They entered the house as Cheyenne handed Reba her son, cooing to him. Van looked deeply in pain.

"So, uh, Mom, we are going to the mall to shop! It's a girl thing!" Cheyenne informed her.

"Oh, Cheyenne, I wish I could go but--"Mom! I meant just Barbra Jean and me" Cheyenne added the information with discomfort.

"So, it affects me?" Reba questioned.

"We were wondering if you could watch these three kids." Cheyenne asked with a slight pout.

"Why can't Van?" Reba looked at the frowning man in front of her.

"He's coming with us," Barbra Jean piped in.

"Of course we need a guy there to carry all our bags!" Cheyenne added.

"Van, I didn't realize you turned into a girl. When did you get your period?" Brock laughed at Van as Reba smirked.

"Mrs. H, please prevent them," Van complained hysterically.

"Come on, Van!" Cheyenne sort of growled at her husband, pulling his arm, waving goodbye to her parents.

As soon as the door closed, Henry ran to his father, handing him a package.

."Daddy, can you set it up?" Henry pleaded, in his tiny hands held a , he took the package from his youngest child.

"I'll be on it," He winked at his son, heading out the back. The wink suddenly gave Reba the weirdest feeling in her stomach, butterflies set loose. Still carrying the youngest Montgomery, Reba took the sleepy baby upstairs, Elizabeth and Henry sitting on the couch.

"Hey, pretty baby," Reba whispered, placing him on her bed. He gave a laugh of pure joy.

"Grandma missed you," Reba proceeded to lying next to him. She stroked her grandson's back, soothing him to sleep. It's been so long since she had a baby to take care of. Wait! She shook her head to rid her mind of what she was implying. Another baby. And with who? Brock? No way. She walked downstairs to see te two enjoying an animated headed out the kitchen to find a very confused Brock. Brock turned with a goofy grin to his wife.  
"I couldn't tie it up correctly, it keeps falling," He explained.

""Seriously? You do this," Reba began reaching for one side with a smile. Doing that, she bumped into Brock, who didn't pay attention and fell backwards. He pulled onto her arm, as he fell back into the at her, she somehow landed on top of him in the hammock. His arms found their way around her as she gave him a playful lecture.

"You should be happy I finished tying it of you'd be falling to your death."

"You're a feather, you can't crush me," Brock laughed.

Silencing him, she kissed him. taken by surprise, he did his part.

"God, Reba, I swear, I'm gonna take you right now." He let out a sigh of pure bliss.

"Don't get on without us!" They separated and sat up on the large hammock to see the two seven year olds pouting. With both his arms, Brock managed to bring both of them onto the hammock. And they sat together on the hammock.

* * *

"Can we walk home, Grandma?" Elizabeth complained.

"Why?" Reba questioned her granddaughter.

"I don't know," Elizabeth looked down," It'll be just so fast, I wanna be with you for a loonnnnggg time" She gave a little smile.

"Okay walking it is, " Reba told her oldest grandchild.

After 5 minutes of finding everyone, Reba, Brock,Henry, Elizabeth, and the littlest Montgomery set off. Together, they walked, Reba's hands carrying the one year old and Brock carrying Henry on his shoulders and holding hands with Elizabeth.

they walked along the streets as an elderly couple passed them by, eyeing how joyous this family was. Suddenly...

"Ow!" Brock yelped out, pausing. Reba looked very concerned, thinking he threw out his back or something from carrying Henry.

Brock, are you ok?" She questioned with care.

"Henry Charles _Jesus_ Hart, why did you kick me so hard?" Brock questioned, letting the boy down.

"I needed your attention," Henry gave a grin.

"Did calling 'Daddy' ever cross your mind?" Brock asked, rubbing his back.

"I wanted ice cream," He stated innocently.

Both children looked at the ice cream store with eyes open. They immediately dragged the adults into the store.

"What do you guys want?" Brock asked after ushering the kids to a table.

"Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough!" Henry piped.

"Rainbow Sherbet!" Elizabeth added.

"Reba?" Brock asked.

"Hmm? I don't want any," Reba shook her head. With a look at Reba, carrying the baby, he set off to purchase the sweets. After standing in a line of two people, he bought it, heading back to the table. the anxious children reached for theirs with rushed thank took time to notice an extra cup of ice cream.

"Grandpa, why is there another cup?" Elizabeth questioned.

"It's for Grandma," Brock stated, taking his seat next to Reba. She eyed him as she gave a surprised expression. The children immediately began chowing down on their ice cream as the baby in Reba's arms reached for the untouched ice cream.

"I'm not eating ice cream, Brock," Reba looked away to play with the baby.

"Fine." Brock began taunting her with the I'm gonna eat it trick. Ten unsuccessful minutes later, he began asking her to try.

"Why not?"

"Just because" With that Brock began feeding her.

"Mm, Brock, I'm not a child!" She tried to tell him with a full mouth.

"Come on, preparing you for something," Brock chuckled.

"What? a banana's gonna go in my mouth?" She rolled her eyes with her sarcastic answer as Brock choked," Not that! I 'm talking about a banana sundae!" Reba blushed a dark shade as Brock tried to recuperate.

"come on, slow pokes!' Henry complained. Both of them were that they stepped out the store together. After dropping off the kids, it was a silent trip home for Reba and Brock.

"Can you believe how our lives just seem to come together again?" Reba asked, her hand holding his.

"Talk about destiny. I believe you didn't want us to be together, a mistake, right?" Brock looked at her.

"What's stopping us now?" Reba asked flirtatiously. Brock stopped the both of them.

"Remember that night we got married in Vegas?" Brock asked.

"Drinking?" She joked," No I remember, we walked through a garden and made out behind a tree. Stupid, huh?"

"I want to make this clear," Brock began," I love you"

A millisecond later and her lips were on his.

"Need I tell you how much I loved you?" Reba mumbled, looking straight into his eyes and her arms around his shoulders.

"Need to know how long I wished you were back in my arms?" Brock replied. The two kissed. And kissed.

"Good night, Brock," Reba started upstairs.

"Good night, Reba," He grinned at her after they came home a half an hour later than the supposed time it took to come home. He started to the kitchen to get some water.

"Brock?" He heard her voice and paused," Wanna come up?"

(A/N: Heyy!! Going on vacation so no update until August... PLease review! Have a great summer! Thanks!)


	13. Chapter 13

He had not run up those familiar steps any faster than he had at that moment. Brock had not landed his foot at the top step before he wrapped his arms around her waist as hers moved from tightly gripping the banister to around his back.

"Baby," He whispered in Reba's ear, and as desperate as it may have sounded to him, her ears were filled with a sense of seduction.

"Brock, I don't want to end this night with broken bones," He face was pressed against his chest and when he let her go from the fierce hug, he could not help but chuckle.

"I don't mean to act like this around you, I guess I need to make sure we're being totally rational," Reba rambled on, "I mean, we're two grown adults and I guess I've watched us growing up together for all these years and Brock, I love you, and I love you for being so patient with me. You don't remind me of that same boy that took me to a golf course in the middle of the night," And she had to look away to conceal her wide grin.

It took Brock a moment to reply, for in that moment, he was so overcome with emotion that he didn't know he possessed. He ran a hand through his hair before his lips briskly hit hers.

"That golf course is still there," He murmured as she laughed her reply.

"You're crazy!" They found their hands interweaved.

"What do you say for a little reenactment?" He nibbled her ears as her blue eyes watched the ticking of the clock at the front of her hallway.

"Lori Ann isn't here to attack you," Reba recalled the memory of Brock crawling into her dorm room that night and unknowingly leading to her roommate throwing anything in her sight at him. Lori Ann never did apologize and she never meant to.

"Please, I don't want anyone else butting in tonight," He leaned in for a kiss, "You ready?"

"Can you stop at a bar first?" She answered eyes wide open.

* * *

"Actually, I'm glad we can go for a drive, I have wanted to talk to you." Brock rolled down the windows of his car, letting the wind blow in.

"Brock Hart wantin' to talk, boy, you really did change," Reba giggled as she tilted her head back against the head rest of the seat.

"It's just, I sincerely wanna try this time, I'm so sick of messing everything up," Brock sighed in frustration as Reba turned to face him, in the glow of street lights.

"You mean it." Reba observed the serious look on his face.

"Of course I do, it's the one mistake I regret ever making." Brock furrowed his brows, before glancing at Reba, "I wasted seven years."

"Brock, you cannot say being with Barbara Jean was a waste of time, that learning to be a better dad with Henry was one," Reba had to look down and bite her lips.

"I certainly ruined anything romantic," They happened to stop at a red light when Brock scoffed his comment.

"Well, I'm glad it doesn't ruin our friendship," She quietly replied, grateful that she always would have his outpour of jumbled emotions.

Reba smiled, encouraging a smile to appear on Brock's face and he shook off any doubt he had before that moment. They had parked their car at an intersection and spent some time chatting before they exited the car hand in hand.

"This is crazy. We are no longer in our twenties, Brock!" She exclaimed, half whispered.

"We may not be, but I'm still madly in love with you like I was twenty two." Brock answered, gripping unto her hand even tighter.

"Oh shut it, Brick toast," She sarcastically rolled her eyes before they paused in anticipation of strategic climbing.

"Wow, that was—" Brock wrapped his coat tighter around Reba as she interrupted his declarations with another kiss.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, "We have a bed at home, you know."

"It was all your idea, sweetie." He proudly beamed at her; he was astonished at how amazing what they had just done felt and how she could only comment about the sand beneath them being uncomfortable. His fingers caressed her chin she placed her hands on his chest. It was hard for her hands to smoothly across his neck bone, up his neck, and into his hair. The sparks were too much for her but she responded back to his kisses with great delight.

The soft patter of a nearby water fountain reminded her of their similar experiences some many years ago. His hands were on her lower back and Brock was breathing hot air on her neck. She felt her legs automatically shift by wrapping around his hipbones for his complementing body to perform its task.

His expectant eyes locked with Reba's and she answered huskily before he could ask for another round.

"Ready when you are, cowboy."

* * *

By the time Reba was jolting him awake, Brock was more than exhausted.

"Brock, get up!" Reba was standing over him, fully dressed, headlights ever so often illuminating her. He had barely slipped on his pants and grabbed his shirt that lay scrawled on the grass when she took his arm.

"Let's go," She hissed but mischief was still within him. It was the first time in a while that his former ex-wife had shown any tenderness toward him. With one arm, he grabbed her closer toward him and showered her with kisses.

"Come on, it's four a.m., the sun's going to come up," Reba frankly could not manage to push him away, "Put on your shirt."

They exited the golf course the same way they entered some hours back. The redhead decided she was more fit to drive home and it filled with a strange and brimming confidence every time she turned to see a lightly snoring Brock sitting in the passenger seat and then out the window to see a rising sun. The worst was over.

By the time they had pulled into the driveway, it was nearing five o' clock in the morning but it had seemed that their little escapade had not gone unnoticed.

Van and Cheyenne's car sat on the street in front of the house.

**A/N: Okay, I must apologize. Four years is a ridiculous hiatus. It's strange that the last time I wrote this, I was a middle school grad and now I am a high school graduate. WOW. Haha. Well, I'm going to make it up to you guys because in the end, watching reruns of Reba really remind me why I LOVE it and why Brock and Reba must be a reality because they are perfect together. Anyways, you deserve all the action. Thank you!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey mom," Cheyenne Montgomery's eyes were wide open; lips were pursed, as she continued the words with stifled amusement, "Where were you?"

"Yea, Mrs. H," Van turned his head to face the doorway, "Where were you with Mr. H?" He lowered his gaze so that his eyebrows looked like they joined together. It was hard to take two young adults lounging on the couch with a baby on one's lap and a toddler sleeping on the other one's seriously but Brock and Reba considered it near serious.

"Why are you guys here?" Reba was at an acceptable distance from Brock, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Jake called. He said you guys weren't home yet," Cheyenne pointed a finger toward the staircases in indication of her thirteen year old brother.

"So being the responsible a-dults we are," Van emphasized the word adult, "We decided to stay here with him. The night is full of lurking…things." He nodded, as if he were agreeing with himself.

"Where were you guys?" Cheyenne closed the television with the remote control. Van sat next to her with a look of shock on his face.

"Cheyenne," He tilted his head to the side, "When a man is watching an infomercial, you can't just turn it off!"

"Shut up, you mo-ron," She directed her attention back to her parents, who were standing as straight as poles.

"Mom, Dad?" She put her fist below her chin, but continued locking glances at both of them.

"Stop looking at me like that," Brock was prompted to say. He was the prime example for anyone to suspect anything had even happened, hair all tousled up and his shirt full of creases.

"I called you guys like five times!" Cheyenne patted her sleeping daughter's blond hair.

Brock immediately reached for his pockets.

"What?" Reba noticed his sudden panic.

"If you're looking for the bag of peanuts, it wasn't me," Van attempted to hide the party sized bag behind a couch pillow.

"I left my cell phone there," Brock gritted through his teeth, checking his back pockets as well.

"You left your phone at the golf course?" Reba glared at him, before raising her voice, "Why did you even take it out of your pocket?"

"I didn't! It must have slipped out when—" Brock trailed off as Reba's face turned a shade redder.

"Oh my God, Mom and Daddy made memories on a golf course," Cheyenne laughed out loud when she caught on, "That's so sweet!"

"Cheyenne!" Reba walked over to her daughter. Brock turned around to hide his grin.

He couldn't help but blurt out the fact of the matter.

"Again." He had to snicker it out.

"BROCK!" Reba seemed out of breath.

"Now that was too much information," Van scrunched up his face, covering up his children's ears.

"Van, those are my parents, don't be rude," Cheyenne blankly retorted.

"Exactly," Van gestured at his in-laws, "I don't want to hear how you were made."

"Alright, kids! Brock walked over to his eldest daughter and her husband, "This is no longer any of your business, I want you to respect your mother, you hear?"

"A little thank you would have done the job," Cheyenne rolled her eyes, "Anyways, we're going to head home now, get some rest you two," She stood up, taking the baby from Van, and used her other arm to first wrap her mother in a hug, accompanied with a peck on the cheeks, and then her father, "I love you guys."

"Bye Mrs. H," Van had headed out the door carrying Elizabeth before he turned his head toward Brock, his eyes squinted, and remarked, "I'm watching you."

"Come on," Reba grabbed her purse from the coat hanger stand, mere seconds after she heard their car driving off.

"Where are we going now?" Brock followed suit, pulling out a set of keys and locking the door behind them.

"Where did you get your keys?" Reba pointed.

"Jake," Brock absentmindedly put them back in his pockets, then he broke into a smile, "I tell you, that boy's got a clear head for business."

"You talked to him recently?" She inquired.

"Of course, he's my son," Brock wrapped an arm around her, "So where are we headed?"

"We are going to get your phone back before they find it." She glared at him.

Naturally, only Brock Hart could destroy a perfectly intimate moment from progressing as it should by doing something stupid. When he sat down in the passenger seat, he was certain he was sitting on his missing phone. It was only when Reba had clicked her seat belt on that he turned to her.

"Hey honey, I found my phone," He held it out as she turned off the engine, getting out of the car. He pressed his lips together. His wife was certainly getting cranky, the byproduct of sleepiness. Indeed, it was something Brock found out early in their relationship, whenever he was cramming for some exam in their little apartment.

"I'm heading to bed," She felt the need to announce when she linked arms with Brock, their steps synchronized when they walked the steps.

They had stopped by Jake's room. Half of their son's body was hanging off the side of the bed and the blinds were drawn shut. It would be a good couple of hours before he woke up.

It was strange to think that taking Brock to the master bedroom would be a moment of heart-pounding and nerve-wracking gravitas. It was so natural to the two of them, as if they had done the deed of walking into their bedroom together for the past twenty-something years.

She had fallen backwards on her bed, rolling under the covers, when she murmured, "It's been a while since I slept next to someone."

The only someone was Brock. The only man she had ever slept next to. The only man she would ever want to sleep next to.

"I can tell," He laughed when he returned from Cheyenne's old room in his sleeping gear, a faded T-shirt and boxers. Reba was lying right in the middle of the bed; several pillows sprawled about her head.

"Scoot over," His hands were on her hips, fingers pulsing upon her belly under her pajama top. She moved only a pinky's length. Her back was against his chest and he could not help but kiss her beautiful red hair.

"Stop fooling around, dear," Her eyes were already closed.

* * *

It was about eleven o' clock in the morning when Reba found herself in her kitchen opening the fridge. When Brock whirled her around by her waist toward him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, very well anticipated for his next move.

Her hands ran up and down the back of his neck, feeling the short bristles of hair, as he pushed her closer to him for a kiss.

"Mmm," Reba leaned against the counter, interrupting their kiss for just a moment, "You need a haircut." She could feel his hands travel the extent of her physical presence, while his mouth and occasional tongue simultaneously maneuvered around her mouth. He was always great at this kind of stuff.

"You always loved it when I kissed you, remember?" He leaned in for another extended one.

"And that, Jake, is the perks of being the youngest child," Kyra sat at the dining table next to her little brother, "You never had to witness that." Her arms were folded on the table as Jake leaned back in his chair.

"Please, Kyra, we never did it in front of you kids," Reba slid off the counter and removed her arms from around Brock's neck, walking over to her children.

"Sure, Mom," Kyra smiled a bit bigger than she should have at that moment as Jake walked toward the fridge, previously blocked by his parents.

"At least you and Cheyenne won't have to suffer from what I'm going to go through," Jake poured some milk into his cereal.

Reba raised an eyebrow as Jake continued.

"Loud neighbors." Jake smirked at his sister. He was referring not only to the activities of which would create nuisances but to the distance of one wall between his parents' bedroom and his own room.

"Jake Mitchell Hart!" It was Brock who reacted this time, who had reappeared in the kitchen changed into actual clothing instead of a bathrobe.

"The story gets around," Kyra nodded toward Jake, indicative of the three siblings informing each other.

"Sorry Mom," Kyra walked next to her mother, before sardonically announcing,"It's just that the subject of you two getting back together is probably the most interesting topic of 2008." She shrugged, adding the Kyra smile before acknowledging a greeting to her dad, "I have band rehearsal."

Once Kyra had left through the kitchen door, the two adults turned to Jake. He was busy downing his cereal.

"Fifty bucks and I won't tell Barbara Jean?" Jake expectantly looked from mother to father. The three of them knew that if she discovered the extremity of which a thirteen-year-old caught his parents in bed, she would never shut up.

**A/N: I did say I was writing as quickly as I can :P**


	15. Chapter 15

"What are you doing?" Reba felt two hands on her shoulders, a slow massage in formation.

"Oh, just some bills," She answered, suddenly feeling euphoric in knowing Brock was right behind her. She could not resist seeing his face and when she took one hand off her shoulder and into her palms, Reba ushered him into a seat next to her at the dining table, "Of course, all of the Vegas expenses were spent on my credit card."

She arched her eyebrows, while he patted on her knee with humor.

"I consider it well spent," He shrugged.

"Of course you think eighty dollars spent on lingerie is," She gave him a deadpan expression, "But the bank already knows I have lousy credit, this is every indication for them to think I'm absolutely insane."

"Eighty dollars?" He gripped his chest.

"Exactly!" Reba waved the credit card in the air.

"Did I see you in all of 'em?" Brock asked, "I think I must have ripped them off you so quickly that night..."

"No Brock, as I recall, we were too drunk to remember anything," Reba was unable to comfortably discuss this with Brock. Several years apart had created a rift in matters so personal as her body figure.

"What do you say for private viewing tonight?" He pulled his chair closer to hers as his voice neared a whisper, as he leaned in for a kiss.

Reba reluctantly pried his arms off of her waist. The way he was acting, it was worse than when they were dating in college.

"Oh no, mister," She smirked, "Those boxes in the garage? Start organizing."

"I thought we were going to do that together," He exclaimed, thinking of the trash bags of clothing and boxes of miscellany that was awaiting his tucking away as he was moving back into the house.

Reba turned to give him another look.

"I mean you putting stuff away while I play with the bubble wrap," He looked down.

"Honey, if you're serious about this relationship, after all I want you here with me," Her voice was getting quieter and quieter. It was not a demand she would make. It was a vulnerability that she refused to show and toward Brock, of all people.

"I will do it at once," He stood up, understanding wholly the importance of this task. He pushed the chair back where it belonged. He kissed her on the top of the head, pulling her head toward his chest.

* * *

"Woah, woah," Reba had to step over piles of clothing, dental care packets, golf balls, and opened boxes before she found Brock in the closet.

"I don't think it's all gonna fit." He leaned back, holding a ball of jeans in his arms, wondering where he was going to stuff that in the walk-in closet, "Hey Sweetie." He turned around, expecting a kiss but Reba stood with her hands on her hips, trying to contain her laugh.

"How did we manage to fit all of our clothes in here before?" He scratched his head.

"There's a drawer out here," She took the jeans from his arm and placed them on the bed. A neatly folded stack fit perfectly in the space Reba had cleared out for his things. It took a lengthy couple of minutes but Brock watched in amazement as Reba was able to handle the closet situation with ease, "It's just pajamas and underwear left, right?"

When she walked to the counter near the front of the room, she peeked at him sitting at the edge of her, their bed. There was a sense of immense pride when she took the photo frame hidden behind all the others, of the whole family and of their grandchildren, and placed the simply framed one at the front of the counter.

It was their wedding day. Some twenty seven years ago and Brock found himself choked with emotion he did not think he had. He watched Reba walk toward him, carrying a box, and that radiance made his throat raspy.

"I love you so much," He announced, standing up right in front of her. Not for the first time, he found himself amazed at all the woman Reba was.

* * *

It was past midnight when they were lying not with each other, not next to each other, but practically glued together.

Reba's arms were snugly around neck and his around her lower back, not hesitating to travel any lower.

"Now I know where all my T-shirts went," Brock joked, his cheek resting on her forehead, the smell of her hair ever present for him to inhale.

"I didn't even know they were there," She tried in vain to be any closer to him by turning toward him. In the glow of the streetlights, he caught the sweet outline of her, her face trying to sleep, her breasts under her-or should he say, his- shirt, her kissable lips.

"I'll bet," He observed her wearing his red "TEXAS" shirt, her hair in little pigtails. It was perhaps the seduced feeling he could get from such an innocent image. He yearned to be even closer to her but both of them were tired. His own back ached and he was satisfied for his measly role he settled upon on that night, her pillow.

"Hey Reba," He asked, unsure whether if she was asleep or not.

"What?" She huffed out, moments later. Of course she was awake. She was pondering whether to display that or not.

"I'll handle the credit card situation tomorrow during my lunch break," He told her, as she nodded. A joint account. That was sure enough evidence they were in a relationship for Brock to share his stingy butt with her. But strangely, the zinger stayed in her head. It was hard to say anything other than that which is seemingly approved by Hallmark to Brock, I love you and all that. As for Brock, he was keeping track of a set of future financial accounts that he would have to handle.

When the alarm rang at seven a.m. the next morning, Brock nearly fell of the bed. He looked over at Reba, her entire body turned the opposite way lying in the middle of the bed again. He shook his head with amusement as he ran his hands through his hair, his foot placed in slippers, as he walked over to the bathroom. When he was done smelling all of Reba's hair care products and settled on a mousse that did not have such an obviously feminine smell, his instincts reminded him of where the hair comb would have been. If things had not changed, it would be in the bottommost drawer.

It was with a totally unnecessary sense of anticipation in opening it, as if he had figured something he was sure was certain to be correct. The fact that he could recall exactly where the comb was meant that settling back into this life with Reba was going to be no problem. That he could make up to his best friend the years of hurt and regret, and forget about Barbra Jean...

All the thoughts that filled his mind cleared away when he found himself erred as he squinted at what was stashed away behind the extra toilet paper rolls.

A pregnancy test box.

At that moment, Brock's heart felt ready to leap out. He peaked through the doorway into their bedroom. Reba was still sleeping. Brock must have stood there for a whole minute before he picked up the box, checking for a manufactured date. In a moment of extreme panic, a wave of logic calmed him down. What logic, he scoffed. His hands were trembling at the thought of it, another baby. He could not resist it.

"Rebaaa!" He shouted, his hair falling into his face, "Honey!"

Reba rolled over and groaned when she saw the clock that read half past seven. His voice couldn't resist the tide of memories she had of when they were married. He would call for her from the bathroom, asking for something. Sometimes it was a trick for a kiss but most times, it was predictably for something he needed.

"Brock, I told you to get a haircut," She slipped on a bathrobe as she walked drearily into the bathroom, "We're going to be out of mousse with-"

Before she could finish, Brock was swinging her up and about, kissing her on the lips.

"Are you?" The test box was still in her hands as her eyes widened, as if someone had jolted her awake.

"Oh." She took the box from his hands and put it back where it belonged, as he stood there.

"We are having a baby?" Brock's face was full of joy, his arms ready to scoop her up in his arms.

"I-I," She was stuttering, "Brock, I-"

**A/N: Ooooo, cliffhanger! Alright, I have got to thank the readers for all your support! Chatte578, rarararawr, crazy4reba, Reba the country queen, I'm so grateful for you guys!**


	16. Chapter 16

"I'm not pregnant." She swallowed down the impediments that kept from telling this to Brock, "I bought it after we came back from Vegas but soon, I didn't need to pee on a stick to find out that I wasn't." She looked down at the tiles on the floor, her arms folded.

It was moments like this, when her eyes were shielded from him and she says something that makes the tone of her voice shift, that Brock felt completely unable to decipher any proper acknowledgement to her problems.

"Do you want another baby?" He asked softly, brushing against her arm, then added, "We can always try for another one."

"I don't know what I want, Brock," She stepped toward her pill cabinet and took hold of her high blood pressure medication.

"What are you saying?" He reached to brush her hair off her face.

"I'm saying that you think a baby will solve this problem? That's the reason you reversed your vasectomy, ain't it?" Reba rambled on, trying to pop open the cap, "You know, I understand you perfectly, Brock. That's how you tried to save your marriage with Barbra Jean, because you think that sex solves everything!"

It was just like the last, chaotic year of their marriage. He had tried many times to sleep with her, even using the same techniques now, she recalled. She did not let him that easily then. It was the same thing he did with Barbra Jean. And after all the things the three adults have said to each other, a part of her feared that Brock was being rash in declaring that he was never in love with the tall blonde the same way he was in love with her.

"What has this got anything to do with Barbra Jean?" Brock cupped his face with his palms.

"What matters is I think back on all the things you tell me and that-" She gave up trying to open the bottle, "Are you still in love with her?"

"What, Reba, no." His answers were filled with shocked pauses, "Look, I love you. I love you and I don't understand why you are springing this on me,"

"Because I don't want a baby right now!" Reba exclaimed, "Not until we can talk this out."

But she did want a baby. She wanted another child with Brock because all her children were leaving their nest and she wanted everything to fall back to normal again. She would hold Cheyenne's baby boy and her body almost seemed to ache for the tremendous decision of adding another person to the dysfunctional Hart family.

"Okay, we'll talk it out," He pulled her into a hug. And then she burst into tears. He ran his hands down the back of her head, "There, there."

"Come home safely," Reba bit her lips, resting her head on his shoulder, her words breathy. His arms tightened around her and a hiccup emerged from her throat. Of course, he would come home as soon as he could, there was no other home than theirs.

"See honey," He let go, a knowing smile on his face. "We've got something else, we have sparks."

Reba nodded understandingly, patting him on the back and walking him out the bathroom. She was not going to deny it this time, the shocks that sent chills up her spine when they hugged.

"Reba," He paused as she crashed into his back, "Where's the hair comb?"

* * *

Talking really did the trick. For the following week, it felt like their relationship was the way it always was.

The dentist was ready to leave for the day, before he turned around and let out a scream.

"Barbra Jean!" He had a confused expression on his face, "What are you doing here?"

Now he completely understood how awkward it was to be around her, in the beginning, at least. He could tell it irked Reba when he walked in the house and she was sitting there chatting with Barbra Jean on the couch. He would try to ignore Miss Booker as he patted his wife's shoulders before he disappeared from the scene until Barbra Jean left. Those moments were the ones that always made Reba doubt Brock's fidelity, that his perceived detachment to his former mistress was only a cover for what he truly felt. It was always the reason they would get into an argument these days and no matter what he said, Reba could not trust his words.

"I'm tryin'! Can't you see how much I want to trust you?" Reba's words rang in his head.

"Hello, earth to Brock?" Barbra Jean's giggle brought him back to reality.

"How did you..." He raised one hand, confused at the way the weather girl was able to come into his office without a sound. He decided now was not the time for conversation"Well, what's up?"

"Reba talked to me today." Barbra Jean patted his hand and when Brock was able to get a good look at her, it was as if she was a totally different person than the dental hygienist Reba hired. It was not only the physical appearance, or simply renaming herself Stormy Clearweather. It was strange to think that she had grown up, that age actually turned her into a different person, well kind of. His eyes caught on her Beanie Baby One of a Kind purse that Buzzard sent to her one Christmas.

The next thing he knew Barbra Jean was a few centimeters from his face.

"Brock, it's over." Her voice was filled with pitiful concern.

"I know, Barbra Jean," He gave an incredulous expression, "I get that."

"You see, Reba doesn't know I'm here, but I just want to say that I think you two belong together. Brock, my best friend is hurting because she is in love with you!" Barbra Jean sniffled.

"Her unhappiness is my fault?" This conversation was getting ridiculous to Brock.

"She's worried," Barbra Jean exclaimed, "And as her best friend-"

"I know what I did, I destroyed any confidence that beautiful woman had," Brock sighed, "Did I mess up your life too? Is this why I'm getting a talk?"

"No, because we were never meant to be together, Brock. We're not soul mates. Not like you and Reba." She answered, "I am here for another reason."

"What?" Brock was exasperated. Before he knew it, he was pressed against the back wall, probably even a couple of inches above the floorboards, and Barbra Jean was right in his face.

"Listen, pal, if you ever hurt my best friend Reba again, I swear you will not see daylight anymore, I will make the lightning strike you, Oh believe me. I have the power!" She gritted her teeth, each word a vicious bark only Barbra Jean could manage, "I want you to march in there and have awesome bow-chicka-bow-bow with her and if I don't get a good report that you haven't given Reba the action she deserves, Blondie, you are going DOWN."

She released him as he supported himself on his knees.

"Oh yea," Her nostrils flared, "I work out."

"Believe me, I wish we could not bickering too." Brock voiced his opinions.

"I have a feeling there won't be any from this moment on," She patted him, a bit hard, on his shoulder, "Sometimes, a girl needs some reassurance from her best friend."

Brock rolled his eyes. It was probably the nth time she had to declare she was Reba's best friend. To be honest, he was getting jealous of Barbra Jean.

"All right, I'm leaving now," Barbra Jean's hand was already on the door knob, "Weather, you may not know, is a 24 hour business."

* * *

"Hey sweetheart," Brock had entered through the kitchen door and slid next to his wife on the couch.

"Hi," She was engrossed, or so she looked it, in a magazine.

"Barbra Jean came to talk to me today in the office," He finally announced. And basically threatened my life, he failed to add.

"Oh, she did," Reba put down her magazine and tilted her head to one side to look at Brock. She scooted closer to Brock, "How was it?"

"Awkward! Reba, why does she have to be here all the time? I thought that divorce was amicable enough." Brock wrapped an arm around her.

"You were here all the time when we were divorced!" Her blue eyes widened.

"Yea, for the kids," He fibbed, a bit obviously, pecking her on the lips.

"Well, Barbra Jean is one of my closest friends," Reba said, "She's welcome here. Look, hon, I just can't kick her out of my house now, that poor girl must be feeling horrible."

"No, she's not. Trust me," Brock retorted. Before Reba could reply to his blunt comment, her phone started blasting a country song. She saw the caller ID, "Barbra Jean".

"It's eight o' clock, she's on set right now." She was very confused at the time her friend was calling, "Unless...Jake Mitchell Hart! Did you tell Barbra Jean anything?" Her voice ended with a crescendo.

"I didn't say anything!" He replied from the kitchen.

"Then why is she calling?" Reba looked at her phone again.

"Gee, I don't know," He blinked, his expression blank, "Why don't you pick up the phone?"

She glared at him before she flipped the cover of the phone open.

"Hello? Barbra Jean?" She had no chance to reply when the person on the other line hissed at her in excitement.

"Reba, turn on the news right now! Do it!"

Confused, the redhead motioned to the remote control as Brock clicked it open, flipping to Barbra Jean's channel.

The next two minutes of live broadcast would change perspective on everything.

**A/N: I promise, this will be the catalyst. Again, thanks for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

What Brock and Reba witnessed was the breakdown of a news anchor, ultimately a news channel. The phone was now held inches away from Reba's face as her mouth gaped open.

Brock had to turn up the volume. His neck craned forth.

It was well known that the male and female news anchors on the local channel were married, it was one of the reasons viewers tuned in for wholesome and successful duos. It might be why there were thirty viewers instead of twenty five. Yet, here sat the stuttering male anchor, the news reports shaking in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Liza, I'm in love with Stormy." The news reporter had his eyes closed as Liza, the female anchor, turned her chair around to face him.

"I knew it!" She stood up, suddenly looking a lot more flustered than she was a few seconds ago.

"Cut! Cut to commercial!" A voice was heard yelling in the background. Then a loud crash. And shouting. And more crashes.

"We're getting married. I have developed an emotional connection with that woman." He revealed, clenching his fists in the air, "I was tired of being only a news anchor. Stormy changed that, she brought rain and snow into the news."

"Adam, I'm calling my lawyer right now." The female news reporter was turning beet red as she walked off the stage, as the clamor of the crew fled toward her.

"Thank you, Stormy, for making me a stronger man." He raised up his head, tears streaming down his face. Barbra Jean suddenly appeared on the screen, her phone still in her hand.

"Oh, Adam," She pushed him down unto the table and the two began to make out.

Reba had shut her phone closed. She turned to Brock.

"Was that even real? That was too dramatic to be real." Brock scoffed.

"Brock, it's Barbra Jean." Reba's phone started buzzing again.

"Uh yea, I saw that." She answered the proud question her husband's ex-wife asked her.

"Oh Reba, what was I thinking? Fooling around with dentists?" Barbra Jean was screeching, "Being on the news is so excitin'! On television!"

The front door opened and the two of them turned around to see Barbra Jean waltz in the room with Adam Brady, the news anchor.

Reba put her phone down.

"How did you two-" Reba had started to walk towards the two people who were holding hands.

"Get here so quickly?" Brock finished Reba's sentence.

"I'm famous now, Red!" Barbra Jean pulled Reba into a hug.

"BJ, we live in Texas," Reba murmured. It was typical of Barbra Jean to think a declaration of love in that manner was romantic, "I don't think the audience is gonna approve."

"That's why we are moving to St. Paul, Minnesota!" Adam congenially smiled at his paramour.

"Minnesota?" Reba released herself from Barbra Jean's grip, "That's so far away."

"His in-laws are offering him a job at their CABLE news station," Barbra Jean's eyes widened at the thought of being on paid television.

"Are they aware you basically left their daughter on live television?" Brock furrowed his brows.

"Are you two even aware of what you just did?" Reba reiterated her shock at this situation.

"Oh yea, Liza's parents love me!" Adam nodded, he leaned backwards to emphasize those words, "Come on, honey, we are going to miss our flight."

"Already?" Reba suddenly lost her breath, she was unable to continue talking.

"Why wait? I'm tired of keeping our love secret," Her nose touched Adam's.

"It was the worst week of my life." Adam replied, as they kissed, giving Brock and Reba the indication these two have only known each other for a short period of time.

"Having been a part of your family for the past few years really taught me a lot. Believe me, I know what true love is when I see it and I think it's time for all of us to move on with our lives. Our happiness is at stake, all of ours," Barbra Jean turned to Brock with a tone more serious than the one she was just using to address her best friend and her ex-husband both, " You remember what I told you, Blondie? You better keep your word. Take care of Reba."

She pulled Reba into another hug.

"What about Henry?" Brock waved his hand, "What about the house?"

"What about it?"

"Barbra Jean, you can't just walk off as if you have no responsibility," Brock lectured as Adam stepped forth.

"Don't you say my baby doll has no responsibility. She spent four hours checking all my Furbies for batteries." He towered over Brock.

"I'm taking Henry with me, and Reba, you can sell the house and handle that business right?" Barbra Jean sounded as if she were casually making some dinner reservations.

"Woah, Henry's my boy! You can't just take him on a plane and move him to Minnesota!" Brock raised his voice for the first time, then he turned to Reba, "Where's Minnesota, anyway?"

"I asked Henry, for your information, Brock." Barbra Jean crossed her arms, "He wants to come with his mother. And you and Reba can always come visit. "

"Honey, we still have to check in," Adam tapped his slap-on, neon green wristwatch.

"I gotta go!" Reba and Brock were pulled into another hug by the tall blonde, and the two lovers walked out the door.

* * *

"Are you crying?" Brock was on his third slice of pizza when he noticed Reba looking at him with red eyes.

"Wow, I can't believe Barbra Jean is out of our lives, just like that." Cheyenne was standing behind the sink washing the baby bottles. When they had heard the news, they came to the parents' house for confirmation.

"Just like that," Van nodded, patting his stomach and burping, "Like that delicious slice of pepperoni pizza."

"Do not tell me you ate five slices of pizza, Van," The faucet stopped running as Cheyenne glared at her husband, "That's like half a box!"

"Actually, it is 5/12 of a box," Van grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge, smiling to himself for his mathematical achievement.

"Mom, Dad!" Cheyenne gestured at her husband of seven years, "Can you tell my husband that he is getting fat?"

"Cheyenne," His hands gripped unto the counter, eyes closed in frustration. "I am sensitive about this issue. "

With that, he took a deep breath and exhaled as Brock rolled his eyes.

"Reba, are you all right?" He divulged his attention to Reba.

"I'm fine," She nodded, picking up her paper plate and walking toward the trash can, "It's just been a shock. But I'm happy she's happy,"

Reba walked behind her daughter, patting her on the back.

"And don't worry, your Daddy let himself go after we bought a house together, too," She laughed as Brock frowned. When she grabbed her purse, Cheyenne turned back to where the door was.

"Where you going, Mom?" She asked, as Van went off into the living room to play video games with Jake.

"To the store. We're out of milk," She revealed, before instructing, "Don't let the boys get any more pizza, save a couple of slices for your sister."

"It's kinda late, Ma," Cheyenne looked worried.

"I'll go with her," Brock was already hurrying behind her, when she looked up at Brock's face with shock.

"I'm just goin' to the supermarket down the street! Okay, fine, but I'm driving," Reba declared.

* * *

"I've been thinking about what Barbra Jean said," Reba finally broke the silence, walking back to the car with her arms crossed.

Brock, if his hands were not busy gripping onto a gallon of milk and a grocery bag, would have raised them in frustration. Since when did Barbra Jean's words come to fruition with Reba Hart?

She opened the trunk of the car, and when Brock was done, he turned his attention back to Reba. She stood there, looking at him.

"I think," She took a deep breath, eyes not breaking contact with Brock, "It is time for us to be completely, absolutely, and irrevocably happy. I'm in love with you and I don't think I can bear losing you anymore."

"You can't be fearful of losing me again if you don't take worthless me back," He answered with a slight smile. Not that he would ever let go of the woman he loved.

She started to giggle and her arms were on his shoulders, hands running through his hair, as he placed his hands on her hips. Suddenly the misty weather had traded itself for rain, introduced by a loud boom of thunder.

"It's raining," She whispered excitedly, as she sank into his body, kissing him fully on the lips. He returned the gesture, and each touch felt electric, chaotic, the rainwater adding to the mix. He eased her against the car door, one hand supporting them by being propped against the car. The rain was pounding down harder and harder and somewhere along the lines, he and she both heard her whisper, "Take me home."

No matter how much she loved that boy, there was no way she going to declare it in deed in a parking lot.

**A/N: Okay, I guess full on fluff is going to happen. Thank you for reading!**


	18. Chapter 18

"Brock?"

"Hmmm..."

"Did you put the milk in the refrigerator?" Her Oklahoman accent was crisp in what had been the silence of the room.

He halted once he looked up with raised eyebrows from where he, his hands, and his mouth was otherwise occupied, fingers holding on to each elastic side of her black lace panties, and looked straight at her. The moisture of the rainwater had glued the fabric to their skins, which may have impeded his undressing her, but not so much. She was propped on one elbow, the sheets wrapped partially around her nude figure and all she could think about was whether there was milk in the house? Rather, Brock chose not to answer, and he leaned forward on their bed with a playful grin and his lips moved down her neck, down her collar bone, everywhere and anywhere they wanted to go. And in that he had declared himself victorious as she tightened her grip around his bare torso with her legs wrapped around him.

The magic was still evident between Reba and Brock. And this time, there was no fear of getting caught, no rush to finish, and it was all within of the safety of their sanctuary. It was the way it should have always been.

His blonde head was all sweaty by the time he collapsed on the bed, panting. Barely enough time had passed until she rolled on top of him with a cat-like expression, her hair tickling his face. His bare hands found idleness a flaw in such a moment as now and he took the liberty to grasp the soft, tender flesh that made Reba so curvy in figure. In her dark red bedroom, the redhead's hair was a mess but all he noticed were the red lips coming toward his own.

"I love you, Brock," His eyes were closed but she and he both could imagine just how happy both of them were after hearing those words.

* * *

"Good morning," Reba had to blink a couple of times as she groggily greeted her Brock, turning off his alarm clock that had been ringing for the past few minutes. He grunted something that sounded vaguely like what she had just said to him.

"Come on, Brock, you are going to be late to work." Her hands scooped up her hair into a bun as she reached for a hair tie from her nightstand.

"My back," He grumbled. It wasn't just the amazing lovemaking, he was pretty sure he gained a couple bruises from Barbra Jean's visit to his office as well. It was strange to think that she was out of their lives now, it was even more official than a piece of paper that she wasn't popping in every second. Besides, a piece of paper that declared Brock and Reba Hart officially divorced never did much. He could hear the shower starting up and he managed to get out of bed, grabbing his boxers off the ground and sliding them on. When she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, he was standing there.

"What are you looking at?" Reba noticed that he had made the bed and picked up all their pieces of scattered clothing.

"You." He bluntly answered, before that tanned face of his could finish nodding, as he walked into the bathroom. Reba had to poke her head out of her walk-in closet to catch a glimpse of him again and she found herself laughing out loud with joy.

* * *

"I'm taking Kyra dorm shopping," Reba announced at the breakfast table. It was indeed an exciting moment in the Hart family.

"Our youngest daughter," He took a sip of coffee from his mug, reminiscing of a younger Kyra, "already heading off to college. And Jake, starting high school!"

"Yea, I'm so proud of her," Reba's shoulders were raised, as she jokingly added in,"Shows what awesome parents we are."

"Hey Dad," Kyra had walked into the kitchen, a purse hanging from her shoulders, "Mom, you ready?"

Reba nodded, pushing in her chair and giving her husband a farewell kiss, before she had her arms around her eighteen year old. Reba's hands were smoothing down the long, red hair that cascaded down Kyra's back when she was waving goodbye to her father sitting at the kitchen table. Together, mother and daughter walked out the kitchen door.

Kyra wasn't the type to keep mum when something came to her mind.

"So it's real now. You and Dad?" Kyra looked out the passenger seat window when Reba caught a glance at her, "I mean, it always felt like Mom and Dad, but why do things always get interesting when I'm not going to be in the house?"

She was also the type to end her remarks with something sarcastic.

"You are an eyewitness," Reba softly replied, for even she could not grasp how seven years of tension led to this.

"I'm glad then," Kyra nodded, "Who knew Vegas weddings could lead to anything other than trouble?"

Reba only laughed for she would never treat Las Vegas as the same place anymore.

"It was trouble, Kyra, it's not the way I would suggest anyone to get hitched," She looked at the cheap ring on her finger, on top of the first ring Brock gave her all those years ago, "But it was the only way we could be thrust together."

"I'm sure if we locked you two in a room with some alcohol and a marriage certificate, the effect would be the same," Kyra made a face at her mom.

"Where would your daddy get a tattoo of my name on his butt," Reba joked as Kyra looked disturbed.

"He didn't." Kyra looked ready to barf.

"No!" Reba let out a laugh.

As she watched Kyra unbuckle her seat belt, Reba could not help but look at her beautiful daughter. She reached forth to squeeze her cheeks, something she had not done in nearly a decade.

* * *

"Hey Daddy," Cheyenne answered the door as a grateful smile emerged on her face, as her father carried in Chinese Take-out, "How thoughtful! I was just about to start cooking! I guess I won't need to anymore!" Giddily, she took off her apron as she walked toward the kitchen. When the coast was clear, Brock stated very briskly, "Van, you owe me twenty bucks."

"Got it, Mr. H," Van kept his eye on the screen, making sure his wife was not aware that he begged his father-in-law to bring food so that Cheyenne was not going to try and cook something again. The last time she did, he wasn't sure if it was animal, vegetable, or mineral he was consuming. The little girl sitting next to him turned around and acknowledged, "Grampa!"

"Where's Mom?" Cheyenne asked, when she walked back into the living room, ending the hug he was giving his eldest grandchild.

"Shopping with Kyra," Brock replied, watching as Cheyenne took out each take-out bin and placed it on the coffee table. The steam filled the room with an aroma that made all of them hungry. As Brock remained standing, he felt it was now the time to mention it, "Hey guys, I need to talk to you about the situation with your mother and me."

"Dad, you make Mom so happy," Cheyenne speared a piece of chicken with her plastic fork as she discussed the matter of fact.

"I hope," He scratched the back of his head, "Hey, you know when I found her in the casinos, she was sitting at the same slot machine for like, half an hour. It took me another twenty to convince her to prowl the streets with me. She looked pretty sad."

Brock opened the packaging of a pair of chopsticks as he grabbed one white bin.

"So what's up, Mr. H?" Van sensed a bigger story than how he won over his ex-wife.

"Well, I was trying to set up our joint account the other day, and turns out," He gulped down the shrimp in his fried rice before continuing, "Reba and I...We're not legally married."

"What? Dad! Did you know about this?" Cheyenne put down her fork.

"NO! No!" Brock distracted the thought by hanging over the baby's crib, watching his grandson sleep.

"Because if you did know, Mom is gonna freak!" Cheyenne suddenly grabbed her husband's knee for support.

"Mrs. H is going to think you were sleazy enough to trick her into this," Van wrapped an arm around Cheyenne.

"Exactly, that's why I can't tell her!" His face was in his palms, "Apparently, the Chapel saw that I was already married and he wanted to make some money off of us drunkards, so he only issued the certificate to us. It isn't official. No wonder we got that discount!"

"No offense, but I'm pretty bigamy is illegal in all the states, Mr. H," Van shrugged, "By the way, bigamy means married to two people at the same time. Just in case you don't know."

"I know, I had a feeling, but at that time it was all so complicated." Brock retorted. He was so sick of the bipolarity of the situation. One minute, all was well and then one minute later, it was out of control, "And then I overlooked it all because I was so busy trying to win back your mother's heart and trust."

"What's going on?" Elizabeth tugged at her mother's sleeve, aware of the sudden outbursts.

"Nothing baby," Cheyenne stroked her daughter's hair.

"Is this about why Henry's not here anymore?" Elizabeth's innocent eyes brought out a temporary silence in the three adults.

"What do we do now?" Van raised a hand, chewing on a spring roll.

"Dad, the only way to fix this is..." Cheyenne looked at the coffee table, deep in thought, "Is to propose to Mom all over again."

"The thing is, does Mrs. H even want to stay married to you?" Van brought up, and the comment irked Brock. He frankly believed his mother-in-law could do much better because the one time that his father-in-law cheated on his wife made Van certain that it was never the way a marriage should be. Cheating was wrong, wrong on so many levels, and he could not help but stare at his own wonderful wife until Brock answered him.

"Of course she wants to," He glared at Van, "If I propose to her again, you can have your answer."

"But are you going to tell her about this not legit wedding?" Van asked.

"I think you should," Cheyenne nodded and looked over to Van for his opinion, and he agreed with her wholly. No one messes with Mrs. H.

Van presumptively knew little of just how much Brock was also protective of Reba.

"But Dad, you cannot apologize, that makes it seem like you did something wrong," Cheyenne pointed her finger at him," You didn't. And please don't tell and ask her at the same time."

Cheyenne felt her head ache at the thought of her mother blowing up and she wished she could do something about it.

By the time they had finished dinner, the problem was still deep in each of their minds.

"Well, I should get going," Brock trailed over to the front door, waving to the family of four. "Take care, kids."

When the door closed, Cheyenne sought the comfort of her husband. Mrs. Van Montgomery placed her head on his chest as he pulled her tighter to his body.

"I'm so glad our relationship isn't so screwed up," Van claimed, and his voice cracked when he practically shouted, "I love my wife!"

"Aw, Van," Cheyenne pecked him on the lips, so grateful that for his support and love all these years and for the years to come. She had been through the ups and downs with this man by her side. And the idea hit her.

"Van, we should break the news to Mom!"

**A/N: A longer chapter yes. Haha, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, dunno why... Hoped you liked! Again I must thank all of my readers and reviewers! You keep the story going!  
**


	19. Chapter 19

"That should be all of it." Reba used her sleeve to wipe off the beads of sweat on her forehead. Kyra's room was filled with new clothes, new books, and new decor. The plastic bags sat on the floor, daunting to Reba as when her daughter had decided to move in with Brock and Barbra Jean when she was a teenager. Now she was moving out too.

"Thanks, Mom." Kyra contemplated the packages all over her bedroom.

"I just want to take this moment to say how proud your Daddy and I are of you," Reba warmly smiled at her as Kyra nodded, arms crossed.

"I know, I sincerely do," She walked next to her mother.

* * *

"Hawaii?" Van leaned back on the stools in his mother-in-law's kitchen.

"We go Hawaii all the time." Cheyenne pouted. Van had to get a better look at her for complaining about going to Hawaii too often. The last time they went to the fiftieth state, her parents were on the rocks of their marriage.

"This is so hard, do we have to stick to only the United States?" Van looked sincerely frustrated, as Cheyenne nodded, " I was going to say Paris."

"Van, Italy is not in America," She sipped her water, blinking at her husband over the laptop, certain that France's capital was actually in Italy, "Unless you mean Paris, Texas. And Mom and Dad took us there when I was thirteen because Dad said we couldn't afford the real Paris."

"I thought Paris was a country." Van furrowed his brows, seeming as if he was going over geography in his mind. He leaned over to observe Cheyenne's adventures at navigating through Expedia, shaking off any confusion.

"You know where I always wanted to go?" Van dazed off into space, laughing to himself. Then he looked seriously at his wife, "Antarctica. That and the Stonehenge."

Before Cheyenne could retort to her husband's comment, her little brother and father walked into the house.

"I'm just saying, Jake, there is never a thing as too much makeup," Brock had just concluded as Cheyenne ruffled her brother's hair.

"Hey Jake, how was rehearsals?" She asked about her brother's involvement in the community musical. They were doing a production of Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Cats".

"Great." Before his sister or his father could lecture him on one word replies, he ran upstairs to his room.

Cheyenne turned her attention back to her Dad.

"Hey guys, what are you doing here?" Brock walked toward them as Cheyenne shushed him.

"Change of plans." Cheyenne had an excited look on her face.

"More like vacation plans," Brock noticed Cheyenne's computer screen.

"We want you to propose to Mrs. H," Van began the strategy, "And besides, I believe we _all_ deserve another vacation."

"That's unreasonable, kids," Brock shrugged off the idea, his pocketbook was going to be tugging at him. Besides, they had just went to Vegas.

"It's not a vacation, it's a trip with a purpose," Cheyenne decided to reword it as another thought hit her, "Did you get her another ring yet?"

"That's beside the point," Brock, for once, wanted to take this problem slowly, "And couldn't I just do it at the country club banquet?"

"Well, you did have se-" Van reasoned, thinking of the golf course story he wished he could forget.

"Van!" Cheyenne stopped him, "Daddy, it has to be romantic when you do it."

"You should do it soon, whatever it is," Kyra walked into the kitchen, "Meemaw and Grandpa's coming to town."

"Really? It's been years!" Summer was just around the block and grandparents coming over sounded like the happy summers of Cheyenne's youth. It meant presents.

"JV and Helen? Where did you hear this?" Brock saw this as another thing to be worried about.

"Mom, she's talking to them right now." Kyra explained, her head glancing over to the living room.

"This is perfect!" Cheyenne exclaimed, "The only thing we need to do is tell Mom now!"

Van made the impression of ripping off a band-aid off his arm.

"Tell me what?" Reba joined the rest of her family in the kitchen. She looked at peace, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. The whole family noticed her walking straight to Brock and standing right next to him.

"Oh guess what? Mama and Daddy are comin'!" The back of her hand hit Brock softly on the stomach.

"That's great!" Brock chuckled nervously. "Did you tell them about us?"

"No, I told them to come here and meet my new fellow themselves. They are coming in three weeks," Reba snickered, before she waved it off, "So you wanted to tell me something?"

Brock could only look at her and pray for the image of her now for the hell that was bound to occur.

"I found out some interesting news, and it's really silly," Brock nervously began as his kids started to bite down on their lips.

"You and Dad are not really married." Cheyenne said it all at once when she noticed her father's struggling, "It wasn't legal due to Dad already having been married to Barbra Jean.

"Yea," Van for once had a soft voice, and he continued in a hushed whisper, "It's called bigamy."

"I expected that," Reba looked down, starting to scrub the sink. She was much calmer than they all expected. She dropped the sponge.

"In fact, I'm glad," Reba exclaimed.

"Really?" Brock heaved out a long-held breath. The whole family kept silent as Reba walked over to the dining table and took a seat.

"Mom?" Kyra was the first to voice concern as she got a closer look at her mother.

"Reba?" Brock walked to her side.

"Can I have a minute with your father alone?" She weakly replied.

"And the bloodshed begins," Van whistled as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, as he followed behind Cheyenne and Kyra out of the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink?" Brock asked before he seated himself.

She was silent, as if trying to come up with the right words to say.

"How do you feel?" Brock pressed on the subject as delicately as he could.

"I feel relieved. Boy, this really takes the pressure off of this." Reba opened her eyes even wider for emphasis, "Brock, this means we got a shot! We can start all over again!"

"So you don't wanna be married to me?" Brock was a bit taken back.

"The first twenty years didn't mean anything to you?" Reba answered in an impatient voice, "Of course I want to be married to you, Brock! I'm just glad that we have the ability and the time to sort things out. It also means less hassle when we do the technical stuff."

"Good," He fiddled with his thumbs, satisfied with that matter. It was all he needed to know.

"Unless someone else sweeps me off my feet and someone who didn't do me wrong," She warned.

"All right," That was not seem a likely threat to Brock, though any guy would be lucky to have her.

She took a second glance at him, sitting there with his collared shirt with the rolled up sleeves. There was no doubt that she wanted him all for herself again. She wanted him with all his charm, all his kisses, all of his body. She would even settle for that cocky smile, all that tanning, and all that protectiveness he had over her. If Brock had asked her to elope with him right then and there, she would say yes. But he wasn't going to do that. Yet she was sure he knew that.

Her heart and mind raced at the thought. They had already lost too much time apart and spent too much time fighting. It took a lot not to pound him with a kiss right there. She loved him and she loved how rationally they could be sitting at the dinner table on a weekday late night discussing marriage as if it weren't between the two of them.

"Well, Reba, are you free this Saturday for a date with me?" Brock started, grinning to himself.

"Hmm, I'll have to check my calendar." She smirked.

"Six o' clock at the country club. I'll pick you up." He added in as she made a face.

"That stuffy old place?" She stuck out her tongue, but she warmly smiled at him, "Formal wear?"

"As usual." He nodded.

* * *

"I just had a crazy thought!" Van exclaimed, breaking conversation between two sisters who turned to look at him. He continued on, "Imagine Barbra Jean was a man! That would be insane if your mom got together with him! "

"We are trying to discuss something important, Van," Cheyenne finally decided to address her husband's absurd thoughts.

"Have you ever thought maybe Mom doesn't want a crazy proposal?" Kyra brought back the conversation.

"We just have to make sure that they get back together and stay together." Cheyenne looked flabbergasted.

"I like it this way, it feels like a normal family now," Jake put in his thoughts, turning his head back from the partition.

"Jake, you want the ten bucks?" Van bluntly asked, then motioned toward the kitchen, "Then keep eavesdropping."

"Well I must be crazy but my band is performing in Las Vegas next week. It's our final show before we head off to school." Kyra muttered, "And you guys, I mean, you can tag along. It's at a small venue but it's basically the award ceremony for those scholarships."

"That's nice, Kyra, but unfortunately we have to finish Operation Mr. and Mrs. H," Van sincerely looked regretful that he would miss an hour of Kyra's singing, and a light bulb lit in his mind, "But can I totally come to your next few practices?"

"Van!" Cheyenne squeaked out.

"Well that's the closest I'm going to get to seeing Kyra perform, seeing that going to Vegas next week is gonna be impossible-" Husband and wife leaped up.

"That's it! We can take them to Vegas!" Cheyenne exclaimed.

"Again, I'm insane." Kyra's voice was flat as she looked at her family members act as if they solved something amazing.

"This is great," Cheyenne clapped her hands together as her attention turned to her thirteen-year-old brother, "Jake, anything?"

"I don't hear anything," Jake leaned in a bit more, failing to add that he had trouble hearing anything at all. Ten bucks was ten bucks.

"Then they must be done," Van declared, holding out his hand for his wife to take "Come on, let's go tell them, Cheyenne."

When the four of them walked into the kitchen, they were as silent as they had found the room. Serious expressions were on their faces as something kept them entertained with what they saw.

Brock and Reba were sitting in adjacent chairs, pressed near against the wall behind the table. Practically in his lap, Reba's legs were hanging across his legs as her hands found themselves seizing up the front of his shirt, the other hand running through his hair. His lips were glued to hers, face hovering over hers. At times, something made them burst out laughing, all the more reason for Brock to pull her closer to him by the mischievous fingers that were massaging the back of her neck. When Reba took the initiative and stuck her tongue into his mouth, it was when Cheyenne felt her gagging sounds needed to be heard.

"I feel so disgusted and yet," Van's face was contorted with grossness, "I can't look away."

"What are y'all just standing there?" Reba leaped up, clearly embarrassed.

"Where's a stopwatch when you need it," Kyra's voice was soaked with amusement.

"I knew something was going on the moment I stopped hearing voices." Jake glanced at the clock.

"Fifteen minutes?" Van looked at Jake.

"Twelve. But close enough," Jake shrugged.

"Calm down," Brock leaped into the scene, lipstick all over his lower face, walking over to the his three kids and son-in-law, "After all, can't a man kiss his own fiancee?"

When they directed their attention from Brock to Reba, their alertly shocked eyes had to notice the base of her left finger had a ring on it.

"Fiancee?"

**A/N: My, my chapters are getting long...Hope that's okay? Hah, thanks for reading and all your reviews are precious to me.**

**Thanks to: **

**Reba the country queen**

**rarararawr**

**crazy4reba**

**Dimples73**

**and anonymous Guest;)  
**


	20. Chapter 20

"It's so weird not being so stressed," Brock was talking as he watched himself through the vanity table mirror, adjusting his turquoise blue tie.

"What do you mean?" Reba walked out of her closet, wearing the midnight blue dress Brock had only seen on hangers in the closet.

"Wow," He had to take it all in. The dress was molded to the shape of her body, simple square neckline with broad straps that connected to a revealing back. Cut at knee length, her legs looked amazing and even more so when she slipped on her silver high heels.

"Wrong blue, honey," Reba handed him a darker shade of blue for this tie. It was like culture shock. He had forgotten the days where dressing up didn't mean costumes to the county fair. That explained why the last time he went to one of these functions at the Club was six years ago with Barbra Jean. Not that Reba never had much fun with dressing. He snickered to himself in thought of the earlier parts of their marriage as Reba raised her eyebrows.

"I meant, it feels different," He recalled their college days, "We had so much going on for us back then. School, work, money, buying a house, your Dad and his shotgun."

"I can't believe we did it though," Reba nodded, remembering that Brock had much more than those responsibilities, but she felt no need to mention them considering the days he did overlook those duties with his use of pot and drinking.

"And it makes me realize my main priority right now to keep on loving you," Brock quietly mumbled, slipping on his dark silver suit. There were so many things he did to her that he would never forgive himself for. Being with Barbra Jean for the last few years was only trouble, he was wandering and lost without Reba who was always there at his doubtful days. When Reba was brave enough to kick him out, he panicked that the love of his life no longer needed him. But being back with her again was different, his pride was subdued and he realized he needed her as equally as she needed him. And he needed her to show off to all his golf buddies, as much he wished he could call the whole thing off and spend the rest of the evening holding her.

"Brock, we're going to be late," It was all she could say as she watched him walk toward her, the image of a younger, less orange, more ridiculously dressed Brock walking toward her, couldn't help but form in her mind. The ticklish feel of his fingertips against her bare arm started a cascade of goosebumps for Reba. His face lingered in front of hers hungry for the taste of her lips and she pressed her palms against his chest.

"Ahh," She resisted his attempts laughingly, "You're going to mess up my makeup."

When the two of them walked down the stairs, Cheyenne was at the bottom, giddily making sounds of awe.

"You guys look hot! And you are matching!" She took a better look at them, her father in a dark suit with his arms around her mother's waist, which looked tinier due to the waistline of the blue dress. Reba said nothing but rested her arms on the soft fabric of Brock's sleeves. The couple could not stop smiling at each other as Cheyenne conducted the next line of business.

"I'm just here to hand you the plane tickets," She presented an envelope to her mother, "We are leaving Tuesday morning and coming back Friday morning."

"Sounds great," Brock nodded, watching Reba tuck the envelope away in her purse. Going to Vegas again with Reba sounded much too fun and much too overwhelming to him.

"Well, I have to head home now. We have Food Network now!" Cheyenne radiated a positivity that made both parents so happy to have her in their lives.

* * *

And Tuesday morning was strangely unlike any vacations the Harts had taken. There were no bickering sisters, for Cheyenne had her own house now and Kyra was already traveling with her band mates. There was no last minute packing. There was no hassle for carpool.

"Mom, does this mean that if by any chance, you and Dad get drunk-married again, this time it'll be real?" Jake curiously asked his mother. The term "drunk-married" did not seem appealing to Reba and she took another glance at her engagement ring. But conversation was way too awkward for a mother and her son by this point.

"Jake, did you bring your puke bucket?" Reba handed over a suitcase to Brock as she reached the bottom of the stairs with her arm around her youngest son's shoulder.

"They have paper bags on the plane," He reasoned with a shrug as Reba turned him around to face her with concern.

"Jake," She began with a serious voice, taking both of his shoulders, "I meant for the car ride to the airport?"

"Oh." Jake understood her and ran up the stairs. Vomit aside, the trip was beginning to run smoothly in both Brock and Reba's opinions.

"This is gonna be one relaxing trip," Brock stretched his arms as Reba strided over to him, sliding her hands up his arms and interweaving her fingers with his as her body pressed against his next to the closed door. Hands occupied elsewhere, Reba moved her face toward his for a kiss. That was not how she was going to spend her trip. Brock may have had his strip clubs and poker games for the last few years to entertain him but that was not all that could possibly entertain him.

"I think I need to use my puke bucket already," Jake walked right out of the door when Reba unpinned Brock's hands from against the door.

The plane sat three in a row and when Reba had settled down in her seat, her face could not help but drop with disappointment that it was another man who was sitting next to her instead of Brock.

"Van!" Reba watched as he automatically reclined his seat and took off his sneakers.

"What?" Van turned to the redhead. "I don't want to sit with Cheyenne." But he leaned in to whisper, because that was an unrealistic comment, "Actually, I don't want to sit next to Jake."

"Where's Brock?" Reba stood up and peered about the airplane.

"Mrs. H, relax, you can have all the time you want with him when you are with him," Van unbuttoned his cuffs and he turned to look at his other neighbor, busy using the complimentary crayons she got, "And besides, Elizabeth wanted to sit with Grandma."

"I want to sit with her too Van," Reba grumbled, "But that isn't happening either because you are sitting right here."

"Mrs. H, I wanna talk to you." Van started the conversation, as casually as he usually was when he was making a sales pitch, "Remember the time I trained you for that 5K run?"

Reba nodded.

"Well, are you down for that again?" Van leaned down so that he was face-to-face with his mother-in-law, "Now we both already know you have a hot body, uh, I mean...It's, uh..." Van started to sputter and laugh as Reba rolled her eyes.

"Okay, Cheyenne and I thought, you see-"

* * *

"Dad, what would you think of getting in shape for Mom?" Cheyenne's attention was all on her father, now that the baby had fallen asleep and the plane had been steadily flying on its way to Sin City.

"You mean by the wedding date?" Brock had to think hard where he kept that Electric belt of his, "I don't know, baby, I think that's way too little time. Besides, you think I don't look okay?"

For a man of his age, he looked great, and Cheyenne was by no means, going to tell him otherwise.

"I'm just saying, if Mom is willing to look better for you," She held out two hands as if she were weighing options on a balance, "The least you could do is reciprocate that."

"She's always looked beautiful, Cheyenne," Brock scoffed, his head leaning back against the head rest.

"I know," Cheyenne smiled at the thought of those great genes she got from her mother, "But the other day I caught her drinking some brown gooey liquid for lunch."

The look on his daughter's face convinced him that it must have looked really unappetizing.

"Well, think about it," She let out a pouty smile, her elbow on the armrest, brushing against her Dad's jacket, "Now let's get down to the juicy details. Tell me all about the proposal."

Brock chuckled, and he began to tell the story...

* * *

_"You know, your Momma and Daddy are going to throw a fit," Brock fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers at the kitchen table._

_"Have you told Liz yet?" Reba dared to provoke the situation even more, as Brock pulled the chair right next to her._

_"Oh my," He whistled, envisioning his dear mother giving not only Reba hell but him as well, he could hear her reproach him right there. But he did talk to her. And Brock Hart took his mother's advice seriously._

_"What do you say we call Helen and JV and tell them you are engaged?" It was a wild whisper and Reba could only purse her lips to keep from screaming. He held out his hands to pull Reba to her feet but she had denied him the principality to get on his knees by gripping onto his face, anything to keep his body closer to hers. It was a side of Reba seldom seen, and yet it was so typical of her to fiercely hold on to whatever she believed in, and at that moment she was confidently certain of their love. Brock could only whisper the words into her ears, his box behind her back for his arms saw better business than propping up a ring, "I love you, Reba Hart. Marry me?" _

_She was nodding, wiping away tears, and biting her lips when she saw the ring Brock had in the box once they had stopped hugging. A beautiful arrangement of diamonds that clustered in the center of the band._

_When he had slipped it on her trembling finger, the hand slipped up his chest and around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. _

_"We will grow old together," Brock teasingly told her as she prodded his stomach, recalling the day of Cheyenne's wedding.__ The words finally emerged from her mouth and the conversation rested on telling the parents of the newly engaged pair to arrive by next month, which would have been Reba and Brock's twenty seventh anniversary. It would be a rush and headache but at that moment, the two sat back down and decided to be occupied with other matters._

* * *

"Awww," Cheyenne could picture the moment in her head. "Mom's ring looks beautiful! When did you buy it?"

"Your Grandma Liz gave it to me when I told her my feelings. It belonged to her mother, and you know their story, about how they died together when Grandma Liz was a kid," Brock waved off the issue with his hand, "She had thought of giving it to your cousins but she chucked the box at me and told me to give it to the woman I loved."

"Why didn't she give you the ring when you first married Mom?" Cheyenne raised a skeptical brow.

"She didn't like your Mom then." Brock recalled the hurtful words his mother had told him when he, at age 22, had decided to marry Reba Nell McKinney.

Before they knew it, the pilot announced they would be arriving in half an hour and before they had even started to descend from the turbulent skies, Brock could feel butterflies in his stomach.

**A/N: Hey guys, I was originally not going to include the flashback to the proposal but I did it anyway because what is Reba/Brock without the scenes that make it a Reba/Brock fanfic? :P**

**Again, my gratitude to you all!**


	21. Chapter 21

"You knoooooooow, I dun fink I wus even drinkin tha' mush," Reba Hart was roaring with merriment, as Brock was unbuckling the shoes off her feet and throwing them off to the side. The lights were dimmed low and outside their window, the bright lights and cacophonous sounds of Las Vegas, Nevada continued on so that it was hard to tell whether it was night or morning.

"Got that right, babe," Brock proudly slurred, his hands firmly moving up her thighs until he had crawled up right on top of her. She was giggling as her fingernails slipped under the shirt and dug into his back, pulling him closer to her body.

"Where di my jeeeans go?" She fell back into the mattress, laughing because she had no idea where her jeans had gone, and forcefully pulling Brock down with her by the neck.

"I'm so glad we're together now," Brock joined in on the drunken party for two, unzipping his own jeans with mild difficulty.

"And it wus soo easy!" Reba's voice became a high pitched screech, the stench of alcohol seemingly making them even more intoxicated.

"To my new bride!" His lips pressed down against her, his arms slipping around her waist.

Bride? Vegas? Reba's blue eyes opened in shock. This could not have happened again. She felt the heavy weight of his body all too well and her headache seemed to dull as he reacted to her sudden act. The ring on her finger seemed to burn.

"Honey, what's wrong?"She pushed him off of her and was mad that he just laid there next to her with a dumb expression.

"What's wrong? After all this talk of change, you take me back here to take advantage of me? What the hell is wrong with you!" She could feel his arm still holding on to her wrist and to conclude her speech, she pushed his heavy arm off of her.

"What's wrong, babe?" Brock jolted awake when he felt his arm being shoved aside forcefully as his blue eyes caught Reba's face contorted in disgust. He ran his hands up and down her arm, rubbing her on the back when her own eyes opened.

"Oh thank God that was just a dream!" She exclaimed quietly, a tiny smile sneaking on her face, as she propelled herself forward toward Brock, who was slightly elevated by his elbows, to give him a kiss.

"Whatever you say," Brock confusedly shrugged as returned her another kiss, as his eyes closed down again, ready to fall back to sleep in his three a.m state of mind. He could feel Reba pulling his arm to back where it belonged and his fingers reached to clench the soft cotton of her pajamas and brush them against the warm skin underneath them. He could sense her moving closer toward him, her toes touching his.

"Brock?" Her voice was comprehended a few moments later as he grunted.

"We didn't just get drunk-married, right?" It was a hesitant tone of fear in her voice as he laughed out the hyphenated word she had just used.

"No, sweetheart, we are going to get married in two weeks," He finally answered, "Back home. Now go to sleep, honey. I love you."

As much as he wanted to talk to her twenty four hours a day, sleep was something he was in need of.

She didn't say another word and when she had fallen back to sleep, her dreams were instead filled with more pleasant thoughts.

* * *

It was near eleven o'clock when Reba, Brock, and Van had returned from Kyra's concert and treating her to an ice cream dessert. After a supposedly fixed game of Tic-Tac-Toe had decided for Cheyenne to stay in the hotel and watch her two kids and her little brother, Van was more then guilty for leaving his wife alone.

"Van, if this was a trip with just the two of us, I would take you on my idea of Vegas," Brock patted his son-in-law on the back with a knowing smile as Van blankly stared at him.

"Two guys in Vegas?" He breathed out, before pressing his lips together, "I don't think so."

The click of heels on the concrete diverged their attention to Reba, walking toward them in a dark green pantsuit. When she reached the two of them and linked arms with Brock, they could see a pout on her face.

"Kyra insists on going home with her band members," Reba sighed when she walked back to the two men, looking back at the trailer her daughter was getting on, "They did promise to take her home safely."

"They brought her here safely," Brock pointed out, putting her on her lower back.

"Alright, let's go!" Van stuffed his hands in his pant pockets, ready to meet the wrath of a Cheyenne who had earlier shouted at him that 'IT"S NOT OVER!' when the three of them got on the taxi.

The three of them walked down the Strip in silence and when they reached their hotel, Van had bolted into his room as Jake came out of it with a frown on his face. Reba held out her arm and wrapped it around her thirteen-year-old son's shoulders.

"Hey Jake, how was your evening?" Reba approached him delicately, for her youngest son looked cranky.

"She treats me like I'm seven," Jake rolled his eyes, frustrated, as Brock laughed. The three of them drew attention who could only think of what a perfect family they looked. Brock managed entered the card to enter the room, and the three of them entered the hotel room they were staying in. Jake rushed to jump straight unto one of the two beds in the room before the lights had even turned on.

"Well, get some sleep, Jakey, I promise we will have lots of fun tomorrow." Brock sat next to his son on his bed, and it was what Reba saw when she came out of the bathroom. In her faded and ratty bathrobe, she folded her arms and leaned back to observe her fiance being a great father to her children. He had always been. And that was one reason she was so in love with him right now.

* * *

Things settled back to normal when they had returned to Houston, as normal as a wedding could make their lives normal. The last minute wedding arrangements and the workout sessions with ex-pro football player were stressful but Reba was numb to it all.

"Mama, believe me" Reba's voice was bubbly, the telephone next to her face, "I feel like I waited seven years for this man."

Brock, whose lap she was on, had to snicker at the literal meaning of her words. She could barely stifle her own laughter when she saw Brock's face.

"You will meet him when you come over and help me," Reba refused to let her parents in on her mystery man; she felt they deserved a big surprise. She was already heading to the receiver when she proclaimed, "I know it, tell Daddy I love him. Bye now!"

She hung up the phone before she rolled her eyes.

"Are you sure Liz got the invitation?" Reba stirred her coffee as she began to make conversation with Brock.

"She hadn't called," Brock shrugged, hiding behind a copy of the newspaper.

"Well call her!" Reba had to look again at the beautiful ring, the Hart family heirloom in all aspects resting on her finger. For once, she appreciated Brock's sassy mother's interference in their life.

"Okay, I'm just really stressed and there you are, being your controlling old self," Brock revealed as Reba incredulously looked at him. His impatience was wearing thin and Reba's temper was getting hotter by observing the look on her face.

"Alright, we don't have to get married so quickly," She leaned back in her chair, glaring at him.

"No, sweetie," Brock sighed, "I want to get married on our wedding day. I'm just saying, I'm just really stressed and talking to my mother isn't the most relaxing thing to do."

"You don't think I'm stressed either? Every day I go to work and then I have to deal with all this shopping. And you can't even help me bring in the bags from the car? I'm taking care of the kids, I'm cooking for y'all!" Reba's voice was toned down as best as she could, as she walked over to the sink. Brock took his cue to follow her, placing one hand on her rear, "And how dare you call me controlling? How do you think-" She suddenly noticed where his hands were in this lecture instead of shielding his head.

"Get your hands off of me." She pushed his wrist as he started to kiss her neck.

"I'm sorry, Reba," Brock's teeth felt cold against her neck and a sound of pleasure emitted from her before she could stop herself, "Please forgive me, I'm just a grouchy old man in love with you."

She kept a straight face, and she took some more time to enjoy the job Brock was working on all over her neck, before she forgave him her way. She whirled herself around to face him and replaced her neck with his her lips.

"You mean grouchy old mo-ron," She corrected him.

"Mmm," He was smiling, until he could hear rapping on the window of their kitchen door, and he groaned as he deepened their kiss for but a second.

When the two of them faced the window, it was Brock who commented first.

"Looks like we couldn't back down if we wanted to, the first of the guests have arrived." He sounded bitter but Reba could only exclaim one name.

"Lori Ann!" The door swung open and her old friend waltzed in with one look at Brock.

"So it's true," That accent made certain it was her all right. She was holding the invitation card in her hands before she decided to read it out loud to double check with her friend, "We cordially invite you to the wedding ceremony of Brock Enroll Hart and Reba Nell Hart."

"Oh Lori Ann, I'm so glad you could make it." Reba hugged her as Lori Ann waved her hand as if dismissing the impossibility of missing Reba's wedding.

"Now I really have a reason to call you Reba Las Vegas." She widened her eyes with a smirk on her face.

"I was only trying to get my man back," Reba placed her hands at her hips, remembering their greeting with each other always involving the time she threw her underwear at Tom Jones during a concert.

"Hey Lori Ann," Brock tried to act civilly. He was that much in love with Reba to do that for her.

"Hello, you manwhore!" Lori Ann congenially smiled at them both as Reba rolled her eyes, wrapping an arm around her friend's waist. It was true to Lori Ann that Brock had been in some sort of relationship with pretty much all of Reba's friends.

Brock's face was stoic.

"I'm going to work." He announced as he kissed Reba on the cheek and without another word to Lori Ann, he stepped outside the house.

"Well, I didn't fly all the way back to Houston for no reason," Lori Ann chuckled, sipping on the mug of coffee Reba handed to her, "Come on, Reba, I've got a wedding to help you plan out."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **


	22. Chapter 22

"You can stay in Cheyenne's old room," Reba suggested to Lori Ann as they strolled down the fancier shopping plazas for wedding items. They had already bought the decoration pieces, ordered a cake, and grabbed several pamphlets for catering.

"It's too much hassle, Reba," Lori Ann peered into the windows of each store before she guided them into the direction of a dress shop, "Besides, I noticed you have new neighbors. Cute ones at that."

"You mean the two boys that moved in Brock and Barbra Jean's place? Van sold them that house a week ago," Reba was proud of her son-in-law's achievement in real estate.

"Never mind the house!" Lori Ann fingered the fabric of the dress, then turned to face Reba with a coy smile, "I mean, those _men_ are bound to be lonely."

"Oh you!" Reba took her by the sleeve. It was Lori Ann back to her schemes again. And strangely, Reba had not felt so much comfort at the thought of everything being the same as it always was.

"Say, have you bought a dress yet?" Lori Ann's voice turned serious, as Reba raised her eyebrows.

" A dress for what?"

"Your wedding dress, silly," Lori Ann put her hands in the air in exasperation.

"I thought I was just going to wear my old one, if anything," Reba absentmindedly observed the mannequins in front of her.

"Don't get me wrong, you look great, hot. And I can tell you have been watching your figure," Lori Ann began, "But that dress still fits?"

Reba paused for a moment. If Barbra Jean had asked her that, she would have been smacked silly. If Brock had asked her that, hell would turn loose. But because it was her oldest girlfriend, Reba felt her self-confidence was bared for her to see.

"No," Her lips curled up in facing the truth, "For one, my breasts have gotten bigger, what with breast feeding three kids, and er, age."

"That is why you have got to flaunt it," Lori Ann whipped out a satiny but short dress that bared a lot of cleavage as Reba scoffed and shook her head. Lori Ann had to convince Reba to make the purchase, "Well, come on! That old dress was so conservative and boring!"

"Lori Ann-" The wedding was supposed to be small.

"Well, I'm sorry but it's true, honey. That dress was meant to stay in the 80s. The 1880s. " Lori Ann observed and took hold of another one, straps flying all over the place.

"I was going to say that I wasn't even going to wear white. It doesn't feel right," She moved her head to avoid Lori Ann's shocked glare.

"It don't feel right?" Lori Ann hung back the dress, walking over to Reba, "It's your wedding, for goodness's sake!"

"I know it!" Reba was very much in need of a girl friend to tell her that.

"Don't worry, we'll pick out a sexy weddin' dress for you," Lori Ann wrapped her arms around Reba, "We are going to make sure that Brock is stuttering when he sees you."

Reba's mouth slid open in shock at the thought of Lori Ann concerned for Brock's entertainment. Lori Ann almost choked, hearing those same words escape her mouth and she quickly covered up with a reason.

"It'll be hilarious! He already embarrassed himself the first time with that stupid mustache." Lori Ann had six dresses by the hanger, held out to Reba. She took them with a kindhearted smile but her expression changed when she saw the dresses. Lori Ann snatched the dresses back with a devious look on her face, "I knew I can get you to a real wedding store this way. Let's go!"

* * *

"Hey," Brock was lounging in bed, wearing his reading glasses, when Reba entered the room carrying a bunch of bags which she dropped all of them on the ground once she had stepped inside the room.

"I bought a wedding dress," Reba decided not to get at him now for not leaping to her aid when she struggling with the shopping bags. She already did that that morning.

"Really? You are not going to show me, are you?" Brock tried to extend his interest in seeing her having struggled with the bags, "What about the old one?"

Reba had a big grin on her face when she shook her head no. She yawned when she ran her fingers through her red hair. And she answered his second question with a tired shake of the head, mouth still opened in pandiculation.

"Where's that woman?" His voice was muffled by the magazine he raised to his face, not that "woman" was the worst word he could have used to address Lori Ann Garner. Reba walked over next to him and addressed him on several issues.

"Lori Ann managed to stay with the new homeowners at your old place. And secondly, why are you reading my magazines?" She snatched the magazine out of his two hands.

Brock only looked up to her with a devilish grin.

"Since when did you start reading _Cosmopolitan_?" Reba's face was red and she could not even dare to look at whatever page Brock was on.

"They have great workout tips," She managed to answer before he took her by the waist and sat her down on the bed. His lips landed on hers.

"I've missed you," He murmured as his grip around her waist tightened. They could hear the ticking of the clock to remind them that it was late. It took a second for Brock to decide to ask her, "I take it you already read those articles?"

She slapped him as she attempted to escape his grip. The bluffer was probably reading the tanning tips.

"I'm going to get changed!" She had her sleepy voice on, pushing herself up and linking her two hands with his for a brief few seconds.

"I didn't even get to see you all day," He complained, taking off his glasses and putting them on the night stand and fluffing his pillows.

Reba could remember herself saying the same things he was saying when she was pregnant with Cheyenne and he was always working late nights at the office. It was amazing that Brock Hart would be saying those words to her. She stepped into the bathroom and stretched before she lazily turned on the faucet to brush her teeth and wipe off her makeup. By the time she looked up from her toothbrush, she had changed her mind all together.

"It's now or never." She told herself when she hooked together the fastenings of the bra. Adjusting flesh and fabric, she could feel her knees wobble as she took a good look at herself, standing in the remnants of a drunken Vegas wedding night that seemed so far away. The light pink ensemble made her look glowing, as if the red hair could be complemented by its sister shade. She slid on the bottom half as her toes furrowed in the carpet. After deciding to forgo the unnecessary accessories, she stepped in front of the mirror.

She groaned, dissatisfied with how she looked. She threw back on the T-shirt that covered top and bottom so that it looked as if she didn't need her lounge shorts and so she threw her pajama shorts into the laundry bin. A Texas summer could not be any hotter and she could feel herself getting warmer as she flicked on the lights that Brock had turned out when she went to her bathroom.

And there he laid, mouth agape and fast asleep. There was a part of Reba that was so relieved, and also the part of her that was disappointed. She almost wanted to wake him up, shake him until he jolted. She turned off the lights and stood there, leaning against her closed door for a moment in disbelief.

There she was, standing in lingerie, and he was snoring?

Instead, she could feel unwarranted anger sneak up with her as she pulled back the covers and slipped next to him in the king sized bed.

* * *

Reba was never the type to sleep in pink lingerie bottoms. Nor was Brock the type to have a pink push-up bra on his face when he woke up in the morning. Yet that was what Brock Hart had noticed in the morning light when he awoke.

His fiancee was lying on her side, her over sized T-shirt rolled up at the bottom by being brushed against the mattress, revealing a delicious slice of her flat stomach. When his vision panned further down, he was wide awake at the sight of the frilly pink undergarments that barely covered up her butt cheeks.

He took the bra in his hands again in confusion, the fasteners of the closure grazing against his skin. Either they had engaged in some unconscious sexual activities or he was too drunk to recall anything, Brock had to take a second glance at Reba.

"Honey?" His face was right in front of hers, and his voice was soft,"Why is your bra on my face?"

"Because sleeping in lingerie is uncomfortable, Brock." She rolled on to her stomach, her face in the pillow, and tugging on the sheets, "That's why you should try it."

"Oh," He put two and two together, "I'm so sorry, baby."

"I told you I was tired and you were the one to fall asleep first," She growled at him.

"I know, I know." God, he felt like an idiot. He ran his hands up and down her arm, willing her to face him. There was a million reasons he could come up with. It _was_ partially her fault to stop responding to him while she was getting ready.

"Good," She huffed out, when she rolled over and stuck her tongue out at him, "Don't give me any of your bull now."

"I will make it up to you, I promise," He nibbled her earlobe, his arms around her.

"I wasn't the one that missed out," Reba laid her head on his chest, "I got my sleep."

"Ha ha," Brock sarcastically uttered, "Well, I'll be wide awake the next time."

"Who said there was a next time?" The sound of laughter in her face ended when her eyes closed again.

"Reba!" But before he could continue, she had her arms around his neck, face right up to his.

"Shut up and kiss me." He could only obey her.

**A/N:I must thank all my reviewers. It is amazing that it is the end of June and I have updated so much! Haha.  
**


	23. Chapter 23

"This is so weird," Cheyenne was standing by the staircase of her parents' house, holding her baby son in her arms. Van stood behind her, holding Elizabeth by the hand. It had been years since they had lined up like this, ready to welcome her mother's parents.

"I'm sorry." Van caught his reflection in a vase.

Before Cheyenne could reassure her husband that her grandparents did love him as a person and as a grandson-in-law, Reba had stepped down the stairs with Brock in tow.

"Come on, kids!" Reba arranged Kyra and Jake to stand in front of Cheyenne, "They are going to come in any moment."

"I think you should have told them, Reba," The back of Brock's neck had begun to sweat.

"They are going to love you," Reba patted him on the cheek as she pulled him to the window next to the door as she placed herself in front in him.

"You really think so?" His hands were folded in front, skeptical until the moment they arrived.

It was an emotional reunion for Reba, the only introduction needed were for their great-grandchildren. Her parents had aged well, they looked the same as they had the last time she saw them. Brock had apparently called enough Christmases over the past few years that it was normal for his appearance at the Hart household. It was then that Helen McKinney raised a skeptical brow at her husband who grunted a question for his carrot top.

"Where's your fellow, baby girl?" He had walked up to Reba, the smell of tobacco all too overwhelming a scent.

"Well, Mr. McKinney," Brock walked up to the two of them with a chuckle as JV expected an excuse for goodbye.

"Your friend in the car?" He saw now where Reba got her sarcastic humor, asking Brock a question that was based merely on the comment he made the last time they met.

"Where's Barbra Jean?" Helen walked next to her husband as Brock could only hold out the packs of fuzzy floss for his past and future in-laws. They had not even noticed when Brock's hand slipped around Reba's.

"Mama, Daddy," She had to end the useless small talk Brock and them were engaged in about the weather and its reporters, when the two parents turned to look at their only daughter with confusion.

"Brock and I are getting married,"Reba bit her lips as her parents looked from their daughter to the man standing next to her with realization on their faces.

"Is this true?" Helen's face was stoic, registering the idea that never crossed the McKinneys' minds.

"You better not leave her for some chesty blonde again," JV was blunt about it, stepping forth and slapping Brock hard on his right arm. It was half in congratulations and half in warning and the last Reba heard of the conservation was Brock telling him he loved his daughter.

She was in the kitchen by the time Helen's voice cut through. All of a sudden, it seemed Helen's nails were sinking right into her arm.

"Reba, how could you?"

"Mama, I love him-"

"Yes, it is evident you love him, but I can't believe you would take back a man who cheated on you!" Helen shook her head with distaste.

"He was having a mid-life crisis!" Reba justified to herself more than to the woman in front of her.

"And what about that Barbra Jean? Don't tell me you became the other woman to the other woman, Reba!" Helen's eyes were narrowly focused on her daughter.

"Mama..." Reba had nothing to say on the topic of that.

"Reba..." Her mother mocked her tone of voice, as she continued with her lecture, "What happened? You sounded like you were over him when you last talked to me! You told me you were so happy Barbra Jean decided not to go to Little Rock and stayed with him because it was the best choice? Reba, I thought I could breathe easy knowing you weren't crying over him every night!"

"I _don't_ cry." It was all Reba could say at that moment, sounding to herself awfully like her youngest daughter.

"I think I know my own child, and I know you got over him. Reba, this is, why this is just loneliness!" Helen folded her arms, her glasses sliding down the nose on her stern face.

"No, I was never over him. I was done pitying what our marriage could have been and ready to be his friend again. He's my best friend, do you know that?" Reba retorted at her mother, barely above a whisper, "I can't see myself with anyone other than Brock and I can't bare to see him with anyone else except me. Call that selfish but I love him that much. And I'm so glad we get to get that love back. That's our love, Mama, and if you can't accept that we are two grown adults capable of making a decision, then that's your own misfortune."

Her throat hurt with the aches of holding back a sob but Reba had fought for this man so many times, and if their three beautiful children approved, that was all she needed. Her parents will get around it. Daddy did already.

"Well, I certainly didn't come to prevent you from marrying the man," Helen's voice broke the silence, and she walked to Reba, "I just need to make sure that you are sure of what you are doing."

"He's been so good to me these few months," Reba softly answered.

"Then you better keep him full," She laughed as mother and daughter hugged a well-anticipated hug, "Your father kept asking the entire car ride over, I wonder what my Lil' Redhead's making for dinner?"

When JV walked into the kitchen with those exact words, Reba had to pull her mother close to her and laugh with her.

* * *

"Brock!" Reba was barely able to catch her breath, before she erupted into another wave of whispered laughter for every touch and breath felt ticklish to her, "My parents are right next door!"

"Cheyenne and Kyra were our neighbors back then. That didn't stop us."Brock still had her pinned beneath him before he sealed a kiss on her lips. In his state of distraction, he had rolled off their bed as she burst out laughing.

"You heard Daddy. 'Sharin' a bedroom? You two ain't married yet.'" Reba imitated his disapproved, or rather a fake disapproved, face before continuing her father's spiel with laughter, '''Remember, we are just next door.'"

"That was not funny." Brock's face was serious, his life had just been threatened again because someone did not trust him with Reba. He climbed back into their bed and put his arm around her.

"When is the time I can have a decent conversation with you again?" Reba raised her eyebrows, reaching for the television remote control in their bedroom. "You are acting like a frisky teenager. You know, I thought you really learned how to talk, and not just smooth-talk, and communicate these past few years. I hate your smooth talk, if you didn't find out already."

"But the only time I get you all to myself, and you want to talk?" Brock complained, as Reba stuck her tongue out at him. He didn't complain to have her head resting on his shoulders as she absorbed her attention on some reality show.

"The only time I get to spend with you, and you fall asleep?" She reminded him of what had happened a few nights ago as a light bulb flashed in his mind.

"Hey baby," He began suggestively, the arm that was around her shoulder dropped so that his hand could caress her thigh under the sheets.

"No," She answered before he could begin. She still found it awkward to do anything that would involve awkward breakfasts the next morning with her parents.

He frowned again, his head tilted back against the headboards and decided to touch her as he pleased. She wasn't complaining about that either.

"I'm going downstairs to get a snack, sweetie." Brock announced as Reba started on the next episode of a TV special on some country star, "Since you said we can't eat in bed."

"I let you get away with a lot of stuff in bed." Reba diverted her attention from the television screen as Brock pulled her face into a kiss before he slipped out of the room. Her answer made him grin like a idiot all the way down the stairs.

Long after the show had ended, she couldn't help but look out the slightly open door and wonder why Brock wasn't coming in. So she took the first step, sliding on some slippers and quietly walking past the other rooms before pouncing down the stairs.

"Brock?" She rasped out. The kitchen lights were out. But she had to let out a yelp when she saw him sitting in the dark kitchen, drinking a bottle of beer, "What are you doing?"

"I was just thinking," She could hear the clink of the bottle against the tile counter before she saw it, "And I had a beer or two."

She reached from behind him to take the bottle he had put down and took a swig of the alcohol, running her other hand through his hair.

"Talk to me," A whiff of air displaced her bangs and the house was filled with a silence both were unaccustomed to.

"I don't know!" His voice was muffled, "I never know what to say. I look at people's mouths all day and I have nothing to say that sounds mildly smart."

She patted him on his knee, "Oh God. Brock, is this about the golf thing again?"

"No, no." His face was ruddy, from what Reba could see but his blue eyes were so clear, "Did I really make you cry?"

Before he could comprehend it, Reba had slapped him on the back of his head.

"I swear, I wasn't listening intentionally! Your dad was going in the kitchen asking about dinner and you were in the middle of the conversation and we felt we had to let you finish." Brock was holding on to the back of his head.

It took a couple of minutes and a few drinks before she could respond.

"It wasn't every night because again, I _don't_ cry. But I meant every word." Her eyes were turning red, unable to blink.

"I was in love with you the whole time, you know that." He was too quick to reply, "I didn't want to hide it anymore. I fall in love with you even more than I imagined I could every day."

The muscles in her face relaxed and she held his hand in hers, nodding with a smile.

"Remember I told you I don't like cheesy smooth talk?"

* * *

When Jake had stomped down the stairs the next morning, his grandfather and grandmother were standing behind the couch. And he knew he could get away with it this time.

"Bow chicka bow bow!"

"When I said I didn't want to hear it in the bedroom, I didn't mean I wanted to _see_ it in the living room." JV barked as Reba sat up straight on her couch, disentangling herself from Brock, who could not have woken up any quicker. The first night her parents came over and it had to feel like the first time she broke her mother's "no boys upstairs, no hanky panky downstairs" rule with Brock when he came with her to Oklahoma all those years ago.

"How are we always caught?" The words were gritted through her teeth, head slightly tilted to Brock's. He let out a sigh, wondering the same thought as how the kids and now the parents were always there in any moment they could consider private. Van had once called it a matter of tension.

"Nothing happened, JV," Helen patted her husband's shoulders, in good faith, "Look, they are still in their pajamas." Nobody mentioned their pajamas were too sloppily put on and rumpled for having just been sleeping, even on an uneventful couch. Nonetheless, the night was not as graphic as anyone would believe because of their version of falling asleep in each others' arms had included one or two make out sessions.

The two of them sat next to each other, not daring to look behind them.

"Alright, we were just talking and we fell asleep. That's it," Brock gulped as he listened to Reba's version of their night. It was mostly right.

When Van and Cheyenne came into the house with a basket of laundry, he turned to see Reba the happiest she could have been when the new homeowners came over with dirty clothes.

**A/N: I know. I'm lagging it. I don't want to write a wedding yet. That means potential end. :( **

**Again, thank you all!**


	24. Chapter 24

"No, clearly I have to do this all by myself-"

"I'm just saying, can I buy a dozen but return two from each box? No,it's because-"

"What do you want from me?-"

"Well, fine! You know what? You're a butt."

"-Stop being such a bitch!"

After simultaneously exclaiming the last thing they wanted to say, Reba and Brock collapsed on the couch. They had been pacing across the room and running into each other for the past twenty minutes. With a week until the wedding, their heads were throbbing and they turned to face each other. Their faces were red, and Reba crumpled up the fliers in her hands. With her parents taking Jake and Kyra out for a treat, Reba and Brock found themselves swamped with last minute details.

"I'm so mad." She grumbled as Brock scoffed.

"Yeah, tell me about it." He was madly pressing the buttons on cell phone as Reba sighed and with her head facing the ceiling. Brock held out his phone to Reba. "Do you know what Barbra Jean just told me? She's a nutshell!"

"Do you know what the florist told me?" Reba slammed the phone on the coffee table, "He was acting like such a butt."

"Yeah, I heard." Brock rested an arm on the side of the couch as Reba took a few exhalations and inhalations of air.

"So why exactly were you calling Barbra Jean a bitch?" Her eyes were serious. Brock cussed, but it usually was something major to tick him off.

"She's _intentionally_ evil, Reba." Brock clenched his fists in anger, "How was I ever married to her?"

"Well, you got a piece of paper." Reba smiled to herself, before she observed how bitter divorce had made them feel toward each other, their last few conversations had ended in arguments as well. Brock and Barbra Jean were not blessed with the atypically great divorce that Brock and Reba may have had and she felt the need to mention that. "Not such a great divorce you got."

"Tell me about it. She said she's not coming to the wedding." Brock put his feet on the coffee table.

"What?" Reba could not believe that the woman who so eagerly wanted her to be her best friend had decided to skip out on the wedding.

"She said no offense to you," And that was when he decided to steer off track with some hidden resentment, "See, we can't even agree who loves you more. Clearly, it's me. I'm the one getting married to you, not her!"

"Why isn't she coming, Brock." It was a demand, not a question. And Brock did not enjoy how Reba was going to take out her disappointment on him.

"She doesn't want to! She says it isn't her place. What kind of ex-wife goes to their ex-husband's wedding?" Brock recalled the words she said to him.

"I went to your wedding!" Reba exclaimed, ready to slap someone, recalling how she had to run out of the church pantless because she was sewed unto Barbra Jean's giant train.

"That's why! She's being a brat." Brock agreed, "She gave me this attitude, like she knew what she was talking about. She told me that it was the past part of her life and that she would like to just forget about it, and then she started to talk about Clip-Clap Kitty Cat the Fourth or something."

"That isn't like the Barbra Jean I know." Reba grabbed a pillow to hold on to as she contemplated the situation.

"That's exactly what she is. She's like this tornado that whiffs through people's lives." Brock commented with bitterness, "You know what, it's better this way. I can't stand her anymore."

"Well, now we are going to have too much flowers," Reba rolled her eyes as she folded her arms, thinking of her own conversation with the local florist who could not understand her demands.

"That's why I have to go there and pick up Henry for the wedding." Brock sighed.

"You are flying up there? Now?" Reba was suddenly mad at Barbra Jean for not bothering to just come back anymore, "We've got a wedding in seven days to deal with!"

"That's what I told her!" Brock declared as Reba finally slapped him on the chest.

"Well, you aren't getting it through her thick skull. Let me call her." She was furious at the younger woman.

"No, I don't want a bigger problem than it already is, Reba. I told her I'd go up there personally and take Henry. Problem solved." He really needed a drink right now.

"Well, I want to let her know exactly how I feel-" She had the nerve to even invite the woman who stole her man in the first place and she rejected her? Even deciding whether she was a guest of the bride or the groom was a complication.

"Reba. Just let it go. I don't want to deal with her." Frustration was creeping into his voice, he had not even begun to think of his own son living with Barbra Jean. And Reba wondered just how fair it was that this had happened to her.

* * *

"Have a good flight," Reba was in Brock's arms, the busy bustle of not just the airport but of their lives seemed to pause.

"I'll try." He placed his hands at the bottom of her hair, the wisps of red twirling around his fingers, "I'll call you when I get there."

"Okay," She took hold of both his arms and the two shared a brief kiss before Brock headed for his terminal.

When she walked to her oldest daughter and Lori Ann, the two of them were busy talking about something and did not even notice her walk by.

"Oh Reba," Lori Ann was joking about again, "Done sucking face?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one that flirted my way out of a parking fee," Reba was amazed at the woman's ability to flirt.

Cheyenne laughed a bit too hard for that one and the three of them walked back into the parking lot.

"So, Mom," Cheyenne was smiling as wide as possible when one's mouth was still closed, buckling the seat belt of the passenger seat. "Dad's outta town. You know what that means?"

"That I can pull out my liquor?" Reba took a wild guess.

"Nooooo," Cheyenne scrunched up her nose, as she put her arms around her mother's.

"It means we are giving you a bachelorette party! Oh lord, the men!" Lori Ann was clearly praying to a Lord that ensured the raining of men.

"Guys, I had one already. It's an ongoing party that has lasted for the past six years." Reba was in no mood to participate in whatever her sex-crazed friend and her young adult daughter had in mind for her, "No."

"Reba, there's no reason you shouldn't go. You're going to be married to Brock again." Lori Ann's voice was filled with disgust.

"This is why getting married in Vegas has its benefits." Reba kept her eye on the steering wheel.

"Come on, Mom!" Cheyenne was going to pull the "you are my mommy, and you love me" trick in any moment. It was evident in the twenty four year old's voice.

"I'm sorry, but the wedding plans have been stressful and having to feed all you kids and my parents hasn't been easy!" Reba could feel the aches in her feet more clearly now that she mentioned it. Then she turned to Lori Ann, " And you are surrounded by two men all the time that you aren't with me!"

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Lori Ann blinked a few times, "They are gay."

"What?" Reba could not understand how Lori Ann managed to stay in a house that long with men that weren't paying attention to her.

"Well, you know what they say about sex, the more the merrier-"

"Ahh, Lori Ann, my child is in the car." Reba felt her heart speeding up, ready to protect her daughter in any case, "And speaking of child, I'm not letting Cheyenne throw me a bachelorette party. Honey, you are my daughter, not my girl friend."

"Mom, I am old enough for this." Cheyenne gave her mother a look, "As I am to get you ready for a innocent girl's night out before Dad flies in with Henry tomorrow."

"Guys..." Reba wished the red light could not change any faster to green.

"The verdict has been reached." Lori Ann and Cheyenne high-fived.

The two of them came to Reba's door that night, and before they knew it, found themselves sitting in a karaoke bar. They had already hit an Italian restaurant to ease up the bride-to-be with some booze, a Wal-Mart to buy some socks Reba insisted she needed to get for Jake, a bar where they got her drunk some more, and a male strip club where Reba had stuffed tens of one-dollar bills in tight underwear among doing some other things she never would have participated in if not drunk that Cheyenne had saved in Polaroids.

"This was so fun," She was blowing bubbles into her alcohol, "Thanks you two. I love you,"

"It was all you, honey," Lori Ann had to laugh in recollection of Reba sitting on that stage being straddled by a stripper in cowboy guise.

"Aw, Mom," Cheyenne stood up next to her stool, putting one arm around her mother's neck. "That's why I'm dedicating this next song to you!" With a poke on her nose, a mostly sober Cheyenne who was taking samples of her mother's drinks while advocating her support group for all they had done had stepped forth for a rendition of some song Reba and Lori Ann could not name.

But halfway through the song, Reba could feel her phone vibrate and she had to squint to see that the caller i.d read "Brock". She flipped the phone open and greeted him happily, knowing he just spent hours in the airplane.

"Hey, cowboy," She was certain her words were slurring but the voice speaking on the other line was not Brock.

"Reba? Is that you?" Barbra Jean was yelling to be heard over the music but loud enough for Lori Ann to put a hand to her chest.

"Good lord, Reba, she's taken your man again!" Lori Ann's voice was full of sarcasm but Reba covered her other ear to hear better.

"What is it, Barbra Jean?" Reba's head was throbbing, remembering that this was the woman who didn't want to go to her wedding or even be associated with the Hart family anymore.

"It's Brock. He's in the emergency room."

**A/N: Better post this in case I do something July Fourth-y tomorrow :)**

**Anyways! What happened to Brockie will be revealed soon...but in the meanwhile, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!**

**rarararawr- there's your crazy bachelorette party!**

**crazy4reba-you are so attentive to the details!**

**Reba-Brockfan- regarding your review of ch 21, just imagine Lori Ann saying that in her accent! **

**Reba the country queen-thank you for all your support and there are certainly going to be more chapters to come!  
**

**and thank you all you anonymous guests as well!**


	25. Chapter 25

She was unable to properly hear everything Barbra Jean was saying. Her head was throbbing as she placed it against the cold table, phone still at her ear.

"Lori Ann?" She could hear Lori Ann tell Cheyenne what she had overheard and she could feel her daughter's arms wrap around her.

"Mom? Can you give me your phone?" Cheyenne's voice was right next to her ear, and she could feel the phone being taken right out of her hand.

"Hello Barbra Jean?" Her parents had told her of her snooty rejection of their wedding invitation and she could not help but feel herself make a sound of disdain, "Why is my dad in the hospital?"

As much as Cheyenne could hear or understand, it had something to do with balls.

"Balls? That's the part that matters the most." Lori Ann pointed out with passion.

"I don't think that's what she meant, Lori Ann," Cheyenne was every bit concerned with this and needed to pass on the instructions for Reba, who had all of his insurance policy information. The two of them saw that Reba was totally unfit to fly to Minnesota but she was hysterical, drunkenly hysterical but by the time she was at the boarding gate with a last minute ticket, she had awakened from a slumber that left her head pounding but clearer. Brock was in the emergency room, he was hurt, he was in pain.

She was walking out the unfamiliar airport, her mind all on Brock, when she spotted someone tall, blonde, and Barbra Jean.

"Reba daba doo!" Barbra Jean's face was contorted with emotion, as she pulled Reba into a death grip.

"Barbra Jean," Reba was breathless, choking out her name. When she was let go, the first state of matter was discussed in the calm demeanor Reba tried to be in.

"Well, what did Brock get himself into?" She bit her lip in anticipation for anything that could have possibly happened.

"Ah ha, Reba!" Barbra Jean was laughing nervously as she took Reba to the side, before hissing out with her hands clasped, "I lied. Brock's fine!"

"WHAT?" The woman in front of her was truly mad.

"It was the only way I knew I could see you again!" Barbra Jean dramatically looked at the departures board. It was very hard to keep her lie, "I wanted to call Steve, that was your pilot's name, but I confused his number with Joe, the other pilot? Then I had to call your home phone and tell someone the truth but you were already flying. So here you are!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Barbra Jean," Reba was trying hard not to lose her temper, "You could have just called us up. Not tell me Brock was lyin' unconscious in some hospital!"

"I never _said_ unconscious," Barbra Jean scoffed with a flip of her hair, "I just said that he got hit with a paintball gun."

"Where is Brock?" Reba's voice was as muted as it could possibly be, her eyes glaring at Barbra Jean as evilly as when she first realized she was Brock's mistress.

"Reba, relax," Barbra Jean peered around the airport, "He took Henry to the wee-wee,"

Reba groaned. She was glad that she had an open return flight but not so delighted she was tricked and fully drunken when she was boarding on to some aircraft just to talk to Barbra Jean face-to-face in some foreign location.

Her eyes were still closed, fists clenched and resting on her hips, when she heard his familiar voice.

"Reba? What are you doing here?"A confused Brock was standing in front of her, holding Henry's hand.

"Can I talk to you alone?" Reba hushedly whispered to Brock, her nostrils flared.

"Barbra Jean said you were in the hospital!" Reba was ready to put someone in the hospital.

"What? Are you kidding me?" Brock had to look at his ex-wife who was talking to Henry.

"You didn't know?" She was skeptical.

"Of course I didn't!" He put his hands in the air.

"Alright," She nodded, suddenly in grateful comprehension that nothing had happened to her beloved, "I was scared."

He could see her bite her lower lip and he fought the urge to hug her. When she folded her arms, it was then that Brock could not keep his hands off of her by that point, pulling her in for a quick smooch before the two returned to the scene.

"Alright, Barbra Jean, it was nice seeing you. I have to go exchange for a ticket at the counter now," Reba held up her ticket and ID card.

"No wait," Her voice was as serious as when she called her about Brock's "accident", "I've been meaning to say this. I give both of you my blessing and I hope that you have the happy ending I have with Adam. However, I think it is best for all of us to forget what has happened. I love Adam and I don't want him to know of my past. It would kill me if he knew who I once was. That is why I can't attend your wedding."

Reba was the first to break the silence.

"Like it or not, Barbra Jean, you'll always be connected with us," She had considered Barbra Jean family in all practicality, "You and Brock have mutual children, for Goodness sakes!"

"One child." Brock had to input as Reba paused to glare at him before she continued. He took his hand off her waist.

"And you are..." She trailed off as Barbra Jean perked up.

"Are?"

"You're one of my dearest friends, Barbra Jean!" Her voice was raised and suddenly she was wrapped into another giant hug by the weather girl.

"Oh Reba Reba Reba Reba!" She was chanting before she released her with a satisfied grin on her face. She reached into her purse and pulled out a card that she handed to her and with a look of awe on her face, she proclaimed, "Every time you say that, I have a Hallmark card ready to give you. I believe this is the one with the teddy bears."

"Flowers," Reba had opened the envelope and noticed the design.

"Right," She pointed and she hesitated before she pulled another thing out of her bag.

"Since I won't be able to make it, I have compiled a mix tape for you." Reba had to look at Brock before the two of them accepted their wedding gift.

"And the other gift didn't _fit_ in my purse, so I will send it your address," Barbra Jean patted her tiny purse, "Well, take care of Henry. Good bye!"

* * *

The presents didn't end there. When they arrived home, Van and Cheyenne were shouting "Surprise!" as if it were a poorly planned birthday party.

"What's going on here?" Brock prodded Henry into the house, where he ran up the stairs with his little backpack on.

"Kyra came up with this idea, actually." Cheyenne waved her hands excitedly, looking at her younger sister.

"Mama?" Reba glanced at the only person who was calm in the living room and her presence deemed her as the spokesperson.

"Reba, I think you need a break. You must be tired and that is why we are going to take over the wedding planning." Helen enunciated each word.

"Mom, you must be swamped." Cheyenne nodded to her husband. She knew that her mother had planned her last two wedding ceremonies with all her heart and at the end of the day, she was always so tired, "And once we found about the Dad not being hurt thing, we decided you guys need a break from all of this."

"We don't want you fainting at your own wedding." Van murmured, bringing back the memories that gave everyone a good scare the last time Van and Cheyenne tried to renew their vows.

"Oh you guys!" Reba had not even realized the stress of having so many guests in town for the wedding, living in her house. When she looked over at Brock, she unconsciously shuddered at the thought of Liz Hart coming over. Brock raised his eyebrows at this unwarranted action,"It's nothing! Mama and Daddy, you are my guests! As for you kids, I'm sure y'all are busy. It's fine. Brock and I can handle this ourselves."

Van suddenly burst out laughing, grabbing his sides. When all eyes were on him, he scratched the back of his head.

"You didn't find that funny?" He gestured at Reba and Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, "Well come on! I mean, Mrs. H is doing everything!"

They returned blank stares at him as he nodded and looked at his feet.

"Mom please let us do this for you," Cheyenne pressed on, walking up to her Mom and Dad.

"That's not fair to you! It's just not right for my children to be planning my wedding." Reba smoothed her daughter's blonde hair.

"Nonsense." JV McKinney spoke for the first time since Reba walked in, his arms folded, "I believe it is the father of the bride that's payin' for the wedding, carrot top."

"Daddy. It's fine," Reba couldn't help but smile at the familiar boom of her father's voice. Her father was not going to pay, that was something else she was going to have to talk to him about.

"Is that back talk, Reba?" Helen pursed her lips, sitting next to her husband on the couch.

"No!" Reba turned to Brock for any support but he was all for it. "Well, what's there left for me to do?"

"Awww! Thanks Mom!" Cheyenne hugged her mother tightly before beaming at her father, "We won't let you down! Come on, Kyra!"

The two sisters walked into the kitchen as Van lingered on, smiling stupidly at his parent-in-laws before turning around and joining Cheyenne and Kyra.

When Helen unfolded her arms, she held out her hand to her daughter. She was holding out a pair of keys.

"You two deserve a little holiday." She dropped the keys in her daughter's palms.

"Oh no, it's fine, Mama!" Reba shook her head as Brock began to smile to himself in thought of two whole days with Reba until his own name was mentioned, "-Brock and I are going to have a honeymoon, too. A trip before the wedding is too much. We don't need it."

"Reba, it's fine. They can handle themselves. It's the five of them against one of you," He pouted at her, knowing she would always cave in to that. It wasn't often the grandparents could come in and watch the kids anyway. He decided it was safe to joke with her now, "And you want a honeymoon?"

She gasped as she whacked him on the arm with a snide glare.

"It's just at a local hotel. Believe me, Reba, we'll call if we need anything." Helen patted her daughter's hands over the keys. She knew that all controlling aspect of her daughter. She inherited from her.

"You sure, Mama?" Reba did not want to burden them.

"We're sure. And so are your suitcases," She guided their two eyes to the top of the stairs, where Jake was standing with one suitcase for Brock and one for Reba.

"Aw, Jake, you didn't have to do that, buddy!" Brock nodded to himself as he met Jake halfway to take the luggage from him.

"I didn't pack them. Cheyenne and Van did." He shrugged as Reba turned red thinking of the kids digging through her closet. She had a feeling of what exactly was in her suitcase, knowing her eldest daughter.

"Ready, you two?" Van walked back into the living room, nodding to the back door, "Rhonda's waiting."

They really wanted them gone. The last time she was allowed in Rhonda was before scraping its door. And the two of them nodded, for it was all they could do.

"Reba honey?"

The redhead turned to look at her mother once more.

"Everyone deserves a little holiday," Mother knows best indeed.

**A/N: They need their moments. :) And maybe because I've listening to "Love Needs A Holiday" nonstop.**


	26. Chapter 26

"Okay, I'll be back to pick you two up in forty eight hours." Van held out his arm, glancing up and down at his wrist at his imaginary watch.

"Gotcha, Van." Reba gave him the most enthusiastic thumbs up she could. Brock had already been running into the lobby of this hotel he had never stayed at. It reminded Reba of Jake the moment he pointed out the back seat and was ensuring his voice waves were going to reach the golf courses when he shouted "Hey, a golf course!"

"And uh, Mrs. H," Van looked wary all of a sudden, "If Mr. H...never mind."

He shook his head and Reba leaned up to kiss her son-in-law on the cheek. She knew what he was going to say and she knew why he didn't finish his sentence. The twenty four year old boy was a man and his protectiveness over his family made Reba love her son-in-law even more.

"Thank you, Van," Reba patted him on the cheek she had just cheek. She hadn't even paused to think how her newly rekindled relationship with Brock had affected her family. Van had only saw the fighting in the tumultuous last few years of their marriage but enough carpool rides with her had shifted his perspective on his in-laws. She had not thought how her darling granddaughter, Elizabeth, would take this news, if she did not already realize it. Life was moving fast and her head was pounding at the thought of it all. The vast amount of alcohol from her party had also not quite worn off.

"Mrs.H?" Van steadied her by gripping on to her arm as she blinked a few times.

"I'm fine," She smiled at him as he slowly nodded with a grin.

"Bye...Mom," He had only on a few occasions deemed Reba by the name his wife called her and as weird as it may have sounded to him, Reba was ready to call him her son at any time because he was.

When she walked into the hotel suite, she could not believe the room they were staying in for one weekend and neither could Brock.

"Can you believe it!" It was a spacious lounge of a room overlooking the golfing terrains, the tufts of grass met with the blue sky was all that could be seen out of the windows. There was a small kitchenette, a spacious living room, a small hallway lined with books, and a bedroom hiding behind two doors. "I lived in Houston for all these years and I never ever thought about coming here!"

He seated himself on the couch in front of the windows and Reba went to stand next to him.

"What do you want to do?" It was obvious his answer was going to be golf but he asked her the question in case they had better intentions.

"I am going to take a nap," She grasped his fingers with hers, looking only at him with a coy smile.

"A nap?" He turned his head around, "You slept the plane ride back."

"And I slept the plane ride there," Her voice made it clear that she was more than tired of having to lug her drunken self on a plane for hours thinking that something happened to Brock. She ran her other hand up and down her back with a grimace on her face. She nodded toward the green outside, "Go and play some golf."

She must have been truly tired because she never advocated a game of golf over, well, anything.

"Okay, honey, and I think I'm going to find some tanning time too," He absentmindedly kissed her on the side of her head as he observed his skin. It was when he was almost at the door, that he turned around and saw Reba leaning next to the couch. "Get some rest, baby. I love you."

She walked into the dark and cool bedroom and did not even turn on the lights when she collapsed on the bed, on top of all the blankets and comforters. Her eyes closed, she stretched out her whole body so that she was lying on her back and before she could even think of sleep, she had fallen into it.

* * *

Brock had not come back to the room yet. Or so it seemed when she slipped out of the dark bedroom in search of the bathroom. The sun was already setting outside, the drapes still wide open. Her cold tiles on the floor made her fold her arms to keep warm and she found her hotel bathroom occupied. The mirrors over the sink were foggy with moisture, the towels on the floor already stepped on, and the shower was running behind the translucent screen. The half opened door was closed shut by Reba and she noticed the pile of clothing on a chair next to a claw foot bath tub. The scent of it all invigorated her and she found herself taking off the t-shirt she had on and unclasping her bra. Her back was to the shower but Brock had clearly not even realized there was someone else in the bathroom. She unbuckled her jeans and pushed them off her legs before she hung up her clothing on the hanger by the door. It had to have been quick, her trembling hand was given the confidence to do as she would, and she pulled open the shower door.

He had merely turned his head around when he felt his jaw drop without his control.

"Reba," He rasped out, his throat dry. She had stepped into the shower with him and noticing his ridiculous shampoo-bubbled-up hair, she could only smile widely at the love of her life. There was no words to say. She woke up, needed a shower. He came back sweaty from golfing, needed a shower. They had showered together so many times when they were married.

She grabbed the shower head nozzle from his hands and splayed water at the top of his head.

"Well, don't just stand there." She was talking as his eyes were looking at only one place. Even after years of seeing this woman naked, he could not deny a view of her breasts,"I can't kiss you without worrying about water getting into my eyes."

He nudged her by the shoulders, pressing her against the side of the shower. The weight of his body felt familiar compared to the feeling of being against the screen, felt comforting and she leaned forward and her hands slid around his neck, assisted with the wetness of his skin. Likewise, his went all over her body, murmuring her name which she had to silence. His mouth was half opened when she kissed him and she could feel the water dripping down from her bangs onto her eyelashes. All of which made her pull him in closer to her body, the side of her feet rubbing up and down his lower calf. She angled her head the other way and as if every move was synchronized, his hands flew up to grab her head as hers grabbed his upper arms. It seemed as if it were with all their might that they tried to move against each other but they ended up on the opposite side, Brock against the wall.

She picked up the nozzle off the ground where she had dropped it when he advanced toward her and decided once more to spray some of the cold water at him for good humor. There was no doubt he needed the icy water to shower in.

"I missed you," He heaved out, still leaning against the shower wall. He reached out an arm and his finger tips had just began to grasp onto her hip bone when she caught his sly grin. There was no way he could ever approve of her just stopping after their passionate interlude of kissing.

"You are a dirty old man," She grabbed the soap bar and began to lather herself down.

"And I like it when you are bad." He slapped her soapy butt as she jokingly held up the nozzle, as if ready to be aimed at him again.

"I'm just remembering the last time we showered together," He took the soap from her hands, ready to recreate that memory as well. He was ready to do everything with this woman this weekend. This was the crazy girl he remembered from their college days.

"I'm starving." She had opened the door and grabbed two towels.

"We'll call up the room service." He wrapped the towel around his lower half as he stepped out under the bright florescence of the bathroom light.

"I believe I saw a buffet downstairs." Reba dried her feet on the towel that was on the ground as Brock nodded, not realizing how hungry he was when he decided to skip lunch and grab a tan.

The sun had completely set when she walked back to the room and when she flicked on the lights, she was able to see just how beautiful the room was, all wooden beams and gold tinted and such.

She pulled her suitcase on the bed and inspected its contents with a nod. Cheyenne had packed enough clothes for a month for her. If she could consider them clothes, half of them had been stashed away in the back of her closets. There was more lingerie than clothing, she realized when she held up a lacy white ensemble up to her body.

"If that's what you're dressing to dinner, I don't think I'm going to approve," Brock was standing at the doorway, his jealousy seeping in at the thought of any other man seeing his Reba.

She stuck her tongue at him and chucked the bottom half at him. But Reba had not noticed anything after that, when she pulled out the dress of her choice for the night.

It was a lace black dress with a keyhole neckline that hit just above the knees and bared her shoulders.

* * *

The dinner was good, the stop at the bar afterwards was better.

"What are you doing?" Brock's eyes were trying to distinguish the words that Reba was scrawling on to a notepad, drinking some of the fine red wine they had ordered. The jazzy voice of the live singer was soothing to his ears.

"Trying to figure something out," She didn't bother to look up at him.

He caught the words she had written and the crossed lines she put over them.

"Are you listing out... places?" Each place on the list brought back a memory to Brock. And it was not just places she wanted to go on their honeymoon.

"Do you have any suggestions?" She showed him the page as he studied it with shock. They had bedded each other everywhere.

"The golf course, the swimming pool, the jacuzzi, bedroom, bathroom, hotel room in general..." He read out the list so that only the two of them could hear. It was truly an unfortunate problem. It was amusing to him that she had merely listed places within the hotel. Otherwise, a couple of cars and an airplane would have been on that list among some other things.

"We've done it everywhere!" Reba's eyes were open with realization, the same look she gave him when she told him she was going to lock Cheyenne in the hall closet when she was in labor with their first daughter.

"No, actually, we didn't." He waggled his finger in the air, as she rested her chin on a fist.

"Where?" The excitement was building up.

"You ready?" He slapped a couple bills on the table and stood up, his palm ready for her to take, "There's one little place I found today."

"Oh?"

"What are we waiting for?" And the two of them left the bar, giggling giddily.

"I am not about to sleep with you here, Brock!" Reba had to be dragged on the soft pavement of the children's playground by Brock.

"You wanted somewhere different," Brock eyed the spider web and the area under the slide as possible locales.

"Kids play here!" She shook her head in strong disagreement. She felt idiotic for even writing down that list of possibilities, these things could have only happened because they were the spur of the moment. She could imagine the rather run-down playground in the daylight, little children running all across it.

"I don't see any right now," Brock shrugged.

"Brock!" She quipped.

"Well, let's go back to the room." There was no way Reba was going to say yes.

"Not yet." She turned him to face her, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss, "It's a big playground. I want to play."

"No kidding?" He looked her straight in the eye, looking for any indication whether he was the one being played with, "As in going on the slides playing? Or, like I rip off your clothes playing?"

She rolled her eyes until the idea struck her again. It was night, the only time she would even consider doing what she was going to suggest.

"Let's go swimming."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed!**


	27. Chapter 27

"This was a good idea," Reba slid down into the water close so that the bubbles were up to her neck. She was running her hands up and down his legs, of which she was rested between. He could do nothing but kiss her jaw as closely as he could hit her lips as she giggled, dodging away and inhaling the air in, "Mmm, you smell good."

"We sure spent a lot of time in water today," He smirked, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist as she was carelessly kicking water around, so that some of it sloshed out of the bath. That steamy shower and now the bubble bath for two.

"Are you complaining?" Reba pressed her back against his bared chest. She wasn't after finding out the pool was closed for the night.

"Not at all," He was playing with the straps of her swimsuit, the back of his fingertips grazing against her skin sending shivers up both of their spines. It was unbelievable that the woman who was sitting in the claw foot tub of their hotel bathroom was the same Reba who hid behind zingers and sarcasm the last few years. It was amazing that she had completely put a faith in his trust.

"You know, I kinda miss your long hair," Brock was pressing his lips against the top of her hair, recalling the curly mane of red hair she had for the longest time. It was irresistible to him, and playing with her hair was just so easy. They were continuing the trading of fond memories they had been up to in the bubble bath for the past hour.

"Pffft..." She teased, shifting so that they fit together like a puzzle, her head resting on his shoulder, suitable for any kisses they may have wanted to share.

"I remember the day you cut it off." Brock was chuckling, staring at the landscape painting in front of him, "I came home from work and you practically threw Jake in my arms and dashed out of the house. And you told me you were sick of Jake, or as you called him 'that healthy son of yours', pulling on your curls."

"I know, I cut off everything up to my neck!" She was conscious of her very hair at that moment, "That was too much for a first step."

"Hey, but you looked great," Brock sensed that she might held some regret.

She turned her head, tilting it so that she had the most optimal view of his face, and studied that face she loved.

"What?" He could barely keep his hands off of her.

"Nothing," She murmured, when she was really wondering whether it was a dream or not that Brock was really all hers again.

"Reba?" He hesitated as she snapped out of her thoughts._  
_

"Hmm? Let's wash off, I'm getting wrinkly," She turned to look at her fingers pruning. He returned her sulky expression with a flick of bubbles in her direction.

He stood up in the tub, letting all the water escaping his swim trunks, as he leaned back down to find the drain and unplugged it. Reba had already stepped into the shower for a quick rinse from all the suds as he watched all the water go down the drain. And he could feel his ears tugging him when she started to sing in the shower. Half singing, half humming, it was a melodious tune to Brock and he could fill his heart swell and for a moment, he was at a lost for how he was feeling. He would have called it a "guy thing" that he could not distinguish this feeling but he put the words down half an hour later when they were busy with other matters. The two of them had been sitting on the couch for one moment, and the next, they were wrapped in each other's arms.

It seemed that in darkness, the two of them could utilize their senses better. Reba could feel the beginnings of something with his stomach, the formation of lost ab muscles. She could run her hands up his biceps and feel the tight bulge under the sleeves of his T-shirt. She could taste his lips quite well and it was as if they were twenty three and newly married. She had just begun to rediscover the man Brock Hart had always been in her life.

"You make me a happy man." He was murmuring, burying his face into her neck. And suddenly, the memory that Reba thought was all a drunken haze hit her like a train.

_"You make me a ve-rrry happy man, Reba,"_ _Brock was leaning over the balcony, shouting out his declarations of joy, clearly under the influence of a few drinks._

_"Shut up, Brock," She tried to slap him but ended up chortling at her own sore hand._

_"Let's go on the gondolas," He pointed to the water below._

_"I always wanted to go to Venice," She was bobbing her head as if listening to music, taking a hold of Brock's hand as he familiarized himself with this unfamiliar activity. Holding hands seemed to be the start of all the physical contact, they grew closer and closer as hand holding turned into arm holding. He helped her get on the gondola, acknowledging the gondolier, and felt the water slosh around them. _

_"Sorry I never took you to Venice, Reba," Brock felt as if he had to yell for his words to reach her ears, and he just loved saying her name, "How can I make it up to you, Reba darling?"  
_

_"Take me to Italy," She bluntly answered, watching all the pretty lights flicker all around them. They sat for a few moments staring at each other intensely but Reba pursed her lips and tilted her head so that it was on his shoulders. She tightened her hold of his arm with both hands. The suede fabric of his tan coat was more than comforting and she crossed her legs as her eyes closed, listening to the music and water all around her._

_"You know, man?" Brock had turned to the gondolier a minute or two later, who only glanced at the speaker once. He was accustomed to those like Brock, brash talkers when drunk, "I really messed it up. This woman in front of me made me feel happy! Do you know what happy is? Do you? Happiness?"_

_The gondolier nodded, realizing that was how he could get persistent drunk dentists to talk._

_"Well, I cheated on her. Can you believe that? I was an asshole to her. She was at home, patiently taking care of our kids. But I still think I love her and I don't know what to do." Brock's voice got lower and lower._

_"Sir, you aren't going to cry, are you?" The gondolier finally asked, heaving a sigh as he watched the redhead resting her forehead on his shoulders, her eyes closed and looking so serene with him. He would have assumed they had been happily married all these years. But Reba was listening as best as she could and it took her closed eyes to concentrate on Brock's words._

_"Nooooo, I'm not going to cry," He already sounded like he was choking up, and he glanced at his ex-wife, patting her knee, "But what should I do?"_

_"You should tell her you are sorry," The gondolier was glad to see the docking pier again._

_"I'm sorry I ruined everything, Reba." He took her hand for slobbery kiss on the back of her hands, so cold. _

_And when her eyes opened again, it was as if the earth was shaking, the waves were breaking. It may have been the music, it could have been the fact they were on a romantic gondola ride in the canals, but they were facing each other for the longest time to them both. No one knew who made the first step, but they were paddled near the orchestra, it was as if the soundtrack of their night had just begun. They were kissing, Brock had his hands on her neck and Reba had hers on his chest. It was as if they knew exactly what they were doing and to the gondolier, these exes were not drunk. They needed some extra courage to get them to do the right thing and he found himself humming along to the tune that the music system was playing with a grin on his face. These people were always full of surprises.  
_

_They had paused in the middle of the man made canals and Brock had her face cupped. They were rosy with drink but the liveliness in her eyes were all energy itself. She was smiling like a feline and he was panting like a dog for her. _

_"Would you ever marry me , Reba Nell McKinney?" Brock was drunk off love, or that was what was probably running through his mind._

_"It's Huh-art, my dear," Reba was cackling, correcting him on her surname._

_"What do you say, Reba Hart?" He was laughing too, so glad he had even gotten her to stay married to him once in his lifetime. _

_She was hiccuping what had sounded like an agreement and he was pulling her by the hand, stuffing some bills into the gondolier's hands and peering at his name tag in order to ask him to be the first to congratulate them.  
_

_"I call drinks!" Brock and Reba were running down the Strip as if they just robbed a casino._

Reba felt the cold air fill where Brock's warm lips had been on her neck when she pushed him off of her.

"Reba, what's wrong?" Brock's hair was disheveled as he instinctively reached for her.

"What made you leave?" Her voice was level, all these "going good blues" she was feeling needed to be dispersed. That question still drove her mad, no matter what answer Brock could come up with to dodge answering it.

"What? Come on, I told you. I was going through stuff," He was giving her the usual answer.

"I said, Brock, did you ever care about me?" She raised a voice by a decibel, "You're selfish. I was going through _stuff_, Brock. What did I do wrong to make you unhappy? Why did you leave?"

"Why are you bringing this up now?" He took it by instinct to sit closer to his armrest.

Because sitting in this hotel room with only Brock as company brings back memories. Because Brock blurts out his thoughts before he clearly thought them through and he hurt her. Because she did not believe in holding all her concerns to herself just to pretend. Because they were getting married and she couldn't believe it.

"Because I want to!" It was not the best answer but she thought it summed it up.

"What do you want me to say?" He was ready to crawl on his knees.

"Say what went wrong the first time." She could feel her throat dry up.

"Oh." Dental school wasn't for the dumb, "Sweetheart, that was...the first and final time."

"How do I know?" Her lips were quivering, wishing she didn't have to ruin perfect moments as this.

"Because you have to have some faith in me, Reba!" He was using a disciplinary voice he often saved for the kids, "I told you we needed a break because I never had the privilege of being with a woman for so long as twenty five years. I thought I was getting old, and that every day I would do the same thing and I didn't like that. When I moved out, I couldn't stand the loneliness in that condo all by myself."

That explained why her kids strayed away from the monotony of having security, what with Cheyenne trying to find herself a few years ago and Kyra not wanting to go to college. And she could understand it much better.

"This is our second chance," He was rambling on, cautious of his words,but he couldn't help but feel frustrated, "I don't want anything else except for you. I'm in love with you. How long will I have to reassure you that?"

"I need time to think about this whole thing." That was the only answer she gave him when she walked into the room. He propped his legs unto the couch for it seemed to be another night on the familiar piece of furniture.

It was the middle of night when Brock had jolted right up, sensing something sliding up next to him on the couch. When he saw who it was, he relaxed back on the couch, calling out her name and stroking her arm.

"Reba..."

"I'm sorry," In the darkness, he could see her crown of red hair and her blue eyes so clearly. Her voice was gravelly, she had been crying as she laid her head down next to his on the couch seat, "I was thinking of something else and I didn't know what to think of it."

"It's fine." It was typical of this fight and make up but Brock could not have wished for a better make up. After all, it was never Reba who would willingly come to apologize to him, "Are we okay?"

She snuggled against his chest in response, tucked under his chin as he enfolded her tightly in his arms. She would have never thought that after seven years of sleeping alone, she would so fiercely miss him sleeping by her side anymore. His mouth brushed against her forehead as she whispered the last thought before they both fell asleep.

"And you make me so so happy, Brock."

**A/N: Oh my goodness, why doesn't Reba just make a new music video where Chris Rich plays her love interest. PLEASE.  
**

**I hope the story doesn't feel too slow or anything, review please and let me know!  
**


	28. Chapter 28

"I'm starting to like this kind of living!" Brock exclaimed, digging into the warm omelet in front of him, as Reba stirred her coffee. He took a bite and made a face of delight as he sank back into the cushion seats and folded his hands, staring off at the green golf course, "No worrying about cooking, dirty dishes, making the bed..."

"Like you had to worry about all that back home?" Reba smirked at him, not at all complaining she owned Brock all to herself again. And it was that smile she gave him that made him love her even more. It was the kind that challenged you to do something you normally would not do, it was the kind of smile that made him want to sit and stare at her all day.

"Hey, I meant for you," He pointed out, before taking another bite.

"Okay, but I won't accept room service tips all in quarters," Reba rolled her eyes, thinking of how Brock had handed the man who brought in their breakfast his loose change as a tip.

"Come on, he didn't deserve any more than that," He scoffed, grabbing the cup of orange juice so violently that the liquid sloshed inside the cup.

"Whatever you say, honey," Reba put up her palm, laughing at his hysterical reaction to defend himself and his actions toward a poor teenage boy in need of a summer job. That was her cheap and lazy Brock for you, but she was satisfied with that.

"My back hurts," He mumbled out of the blue, rubbing his lower back, "Geez, Reba. We could have slept on the bed afterwards. And I was looking forward to sleeping on that bed."

"You big baby, that couch was comfortable!" Reba rolled her eyes, "And I already told you. I'm sorry about last time. I suddenly remembered something I didn't want to remember."

"What was it?" What other stupid things had he done in their past.

When she had finished telling him an account of her memory, two cups of coffee and one cold half eaten omelet later, he was racking his brains trying to match the memory when she summed up her story.

"It's just, I wish I knew what I was doing at the time. " Reba sighed, "I hate the fact that we were drunk and in Vegas. I mean, yea, I thought about us getting back together so many times but I never thought _like that_."

"Oh sweetheart, I knew what I was doing," Brock came to the rescue, reaching forth to take her chin in his fingers, "And you wanted us back together?"

"Well obviously," She hit the back of his hand, "Until Cheyenne told me it was the worst idea ever. Then I tried to slip away the thoughts."

"Cheyenne said that?" Brock was shocked that his eldest daughter was so bluntly harsh about it. His hurt feelings subsided for him to continue, "Trust me. We belong together."

It was true. He had been holding a lot of feelings and as bad as it may always seem to Reba, it was the only way he would have disclosed this burden in his heart. He was an avid talker when drunk as much as Reba was an even more aggressive giggler when she drunk. He had to take in his current surroundings and exhale a seemingly long-held breath. Sitting here on the balcony with Reba was just like the better parts of their marriage, when they could peacefully sit there and just enjoy their company.

"I know, I know." She sounded exasperated, and her eyes squinted when they landed on Brock, "But you seriously don't remember what you did that night in Vegas?"

"Well," He was suddenly the narrator of some story exclusive to Reba only, "I remember it a little differently. I remember a beautiful, gorgeous, unbelievably sexy redhead walking in front of me-"

"Brock."

"Hey, do you wanna hear my story or not?"

_They were walking past the crowds of people, and Reba had been walking as fast as she could while still considered walking with Brock. Nearby, the Bellagio Water Show had just started another viewing._

_"Slow it down, will you?" Brock had the urge to grab her by the arm as she threw him a dirty glance._

_"I don't want to! I didn't even want to come on this trip but the kids! You raised them to be as manipulative as you are, Brock," Reba was grumbling, stuffing her hands into her black coat's front pockets after rearranging her scarf._

_"I raised them to respect their mother and watch out for her when she's obviously overworked, Reba." Brock had a point there, and he kept a proud grin on his face, "On the other hand, the reason I'm here is all for your entertainment, baby. I'm here to make your nights just a bit more fun!"_

_The cheesy slogan was as stupid as singing his name when she worked for him in his dental office but she faked a sarcastic smile at him. There seemed to be no doubt in Reba's opinions, that Brock was only here because he was not stupid enough to get drunk with his kids.  
_

_"You can go run out in the street and get hit by a car." She earnestly told him, "That'll make my night."_

_"Reba." He pouted, adjusting his tan coat for this desert winter weather, "Just relax."_

_He had really wished he would stop with the zingers now that they were alone. They were doing so well, regaining that friendship they once had as a married couple. She didn't agree with his request but she folded her arms with a contemplative glance at the man in front of her.  
_

_"Do you want to see the pirate show? Go up the observation deck?" He was listing out all the things they could be possibly doing instead of arguing in the middle of Vegas._

_"I could use a few drinks," She shrugged as he nodded at her. _

_"That's my girl." He thought aloud, and only realized so when he was smacked on the back of the head._

_"I'm not your girl." That was her curt reply._

_"You could be soon, this is Vegas! Anything could happen," He joked, not realizing at the time how true his statement was as they walked to the nearest bar._

"And the rest feels like a drunken haze." Brock suddenly was very attentive of the plate designs, "But it was all you on the drinks!"

"How many times did we mention marriage that night?" Reba's face was stoic, "And the rest is anyone's wild guess."

Brock made a sound of agreement and before he could even hesitate, he began.

"You know, despite how crazy it was afterwards, I'm glad it happened." He was worried she was going to lecture him on irresponsibility, not thinking of the kids, Vegas sleaze, anything than what she did.

"I know." Reba stared off into the distance instead of looking at him, "And I also know that I can hold much more liquor than you can."

"I drank more at the first bar," Brock pointed out to a gloating Reba. For a while, they found it just right to sit and enjoy the calming comfort of each other's company.

* * *

Brock had his hands full. She was moaning out his name before he decided to occupy his mouth as well, on top of her mouth. They had been banging against the doors, the walls, and a lamp before they had found their way to the bed their last night in the hotel. They had spent the day productively, eating once more at the hotel buffet for dinner after walking to a nearby restaurant for lunch. What had happened between the two meals had meant some smudged lipstick and lost quarters in the arcade and at the pool table. Brock and Reba could not think of wasting the end of the day with an unproductive night. He had barely plopped her on the bed before she was instructing him to do something, demanding him to do something that he frankly was paying no attention to.

"I know, babe." His pants were around his ankles, impatiently trying to slide them off around his feet, when she called out his name.

"Brock." Her voice was demanding, but transformed into flirty, "I want you to strip."

"What?" He crawled back on the bed, his warm hand brushing against her bared but crossed legs.

"Strip. Slowly." She loved playing with that dirty blonde hair of his, running both hands through it, and giving him a perfect view of cleavage under the blouse she had on.

"Reba-" He raised his eyebrows incredulously, he could feel the entire room getting hotter.

"Come on, big boy." She shrugged, "I do this." She whipped off the blouse she had on, revealing a black bra, "You do that shirt of yours. And then I do this." She tugged at the waist of her pants, taking the underwear waistline along with it, with a suggestive smile.

"Red, you got me there," He had unbuttoned a few of the top buttons before attempting to take it off.

"I said _slowly_." That smile had its humor in other ways.

"But I can't wait!" He was groaning as she did up his shirt again. And so he started at it again as slowly as she commanded. The buttons left the holes one by one as he paused to pop his collar with a goofy grin. Brock started again, nearing the abdomen when Reba seized him by yanking the bottom of his shirt. She had been the one who couldn't handle it, watching him torture her so. She pressed her hands against that tanned chest of his, pulling his shirt apart so that he heard the last of the buttons hit the ground with a clink.

"Well, you ruined that shirt." He chuckled as she placed kisses down his body as they rolled over so that she ended up on top of him.

"I don't care. I want you to _touch_ me." She had her legs around him already and he had slipped the pants right off of her as he obliged with her command, leaning to bite her lower lip as she moved upwards to fulfill the kiss. He was running one hand weakly up her arched arm, feeling the goosebumps rise on her freckly alabaster skin. Reba took his hand and moved it around her waist, awaiting for them to join as one.

"God, I love you." He exclaimed, staring up at the beautiful face right in front of his, before the rest of their night played on.

**A/N: Since it is the second part to the last chapter, I decided to be speedy with it. Sorry that it is a short chapter because I miss the rest of the family butting in on their love life because it ain't normal they get 48 hours all to themselves. Haha, thanks for reading, and I do need some suggestions for a honeymoon later though I have some ideas...I'm still open for suggestions!  
**


	29. Chapter 29

"Kyra, what are you doing here?" Reba watched her nineteen year old daughter get out of the driver's seat and rest her arm on her hood of the car. She watched her father load the back of the car with the suitcases before turning to her mother again.

"Well, hello to you too," She gave her mother the typical Kyra smile.

"I didn't mean it like that, come here." She motioned her daughter over to where she was standing, a giant hug in order, as she continued, "I meant, I thought that Van was going to pick us up."

"Well, he had an open house and Cheyenne's out with Meemaw and Grandpa doing wedding stuff so I had to pick you up." Kyra explained, "Besides, that new car Van got is supposedly for business purposes only so he would never even dream of driving here in it."

The teenager rolled her eyes in thought of her brother-in-law's fondness over the car with the seat warmers that was issued by his new real estate partner, Steve Norris.

"Sorry we are late," Reba was smoothing out her daughter's long, curly red hair as they hugged, "Your father was stealing soap from the bathroom."

"I took the toothpaste." Brock adamantly declared, "Because I believe in teeth."

"Don't worry, I've seen him collect the toothpicks at Fat Tony's pizza parlor." Kyra gave her mother an incredulous expression as Brock nodded, slamming the trunk door close as he walked over.

"Yea sister, you got that right." He proudly glanced at his two favorite redheads as they both rolled their eyes. Reba had her arm around her daughter's shoulders when Brock opened the passenger seat of the car.

"Hey its the baby!" Brock leaped into the back seat, taking his grandson out of its car seat and kissing him on the nose, whispering baby-talk to him.

"Why's Alex here?" Reba watched Kyra walk to the passenger seat.

"You know, Aunt Kyra's gotta take out her nephew sometime." Kyra shrugged, but ended it with a wide grin. She was really fond of her niece and nephew, no matter what it may seem.

"Then, where's Elizabeth, Jake, and Henry?" Reba slid into the back seat, taking the baby from Brock's lap as he babbled some incoherent words. A thirteen year old boy was not old enough to be watching over two seven year olds.

"Lori Ann offered." Kyra put the key in the car.

"What does she know about kids?" Brock scoffed, as Reba glared at him with the baby in her arms.

"Alright, buckle him in the car seat, will you?" Kyra was putting on her seat belt after turning on the engine, jamming up her music. Sitting in the middle of his grandparents, Alexander Christopher Montgomery was waggling his arms and legs to the tune of Kyra's music, giggling when the bass vibrations were noticed by his little body. And Grandpa and Grandma were smiling in awe of the child, eyes entranced by every action he made.

"You think this is what Van must have been like when he was a child?" Reba dabbed her finger at the hairless spot between the baby's dark eyebrows, which Van was quite sad because his son was not "well-embrowed" like he was.

"Please, he's just like Cheyenne when she was a baby." Brock exclaimed, putting out his finger for him to clutch onto tightly. His grandson reminded him strongly of his oldest daughter just as much as Elizabeth did. The two of them spent most of the car ride in silence, too preoccupied with him. It was only Kyra who interrupted their train of thought.

"So Dad, what's with the polo collar put up and buttoned all the way up?" Kyra was glancing into her mirror, hands on the steering wheel, waiting for the traffic to die down.

"Uhhh." He turned to face Reba who rolled down the windows, to hide her reddening face. His neck was only the beginning, Reba left marks all over him, "I got a really uneven tan."

"Right," It was obvious that Kyra did not believe a word he said with the smirk on her face but the two of them breathed easily knowing Kyra was not the type to tease them about it for too long, until she replied curtly, "Good luck with the turtlenecks in July."

"Uh oh." Reba changed the subject fast, peering at her grandson's diaper, "We have to change his diapers."

"We're almost home." Kyra nodded at the green signs on the highway, starting to look familiar to the three driver licensed people in the car.

"I wish this weekend didn't have to end." Brock huskily turned to Reba as she pouted back at him. He excitedly turned to his driving daughter, "Kyra, Sweetheart, you hungry? Let's go grab a burger. I know the best place just around here."

"That's a great idea!" Reba beamed.

_Mom agreeing with Dad?_ Kyra thought as she watched from her mirror her two parents talking about the best cheeseburger they ever had. She had to say yes to that. Boy, they were going to be shocked at that one too.

"Sure, how do I get there?" She finally answered.

"You girls are going to love it. Their patties are delicious, they're handmade..." Brock was carrying baby Alex in one arm and using his other hand to genuinely show what a fan he was of the Burger store. Reba pulled open the door with a roll of her eyes as Kyra and Brock walked into the store.

"Alex wanna burger? No! You can't have a burger?" Brock had his eyes wide open as he bounced his grandson on his lap, refusing to hand him over to Reba, equally deprived of her grandbaby. "Grandpa's here. And Grandpa loves his little Alex."And he leaned in to whisper into the giddy boy's ears, "Then we won't tell Grandma."

The child was giggling as Reba slid closer to Brock on the booth seating with skeptical eyes, taking in the eccentric decor of the burger joint as Kyra took a look at the menu. Being the pro, he convinced Reba that he would order for them but Kyra had to defend herself at that point. She could choose her own burger.

After a busty waitress on roller skates had taken their order, Kyra leaned against the plastic chair and watched. She sat there, watching her mom and dad playing with the baby. Something had reminded her of how it was those years far behind the ones she could claim to remember, when her father was a doting dad and loving husband. When her mom's voice didn't sound strained with frustration but angelically musical and the crinkles by her eyes fell in all the right places instead of bulging veins. It was the sight of two people, her own parents, in love and she was elated.

"Brock, hand over the baby, please." She was no expert at the puppy dog pout Brock is, "The changing tables are in the woman's bathrooms, anyways." She eyed the bulge at the rear side of her grandson's diapers.

It was then Kyra came back from the stupor that only the 1950s time machine she was in could make her feel.

"Yes, but only I have the diapers with me," She patted her purse with a stern expression as she stood up, holding out her arms to her reluctant father, "Come on, Alex. I know, Grandpa and Grandma are crazy."

When she returned with his nephew, she caught her parents smiling except those same smiling lips were against each other in one swift peck. When Kyra was within her parent's sight, they were brimming with joy at the sight of their youngest daughter. Brock had his arm lazily draped on her mother's shoulder and he was laughing at something that Reba did not find equally funny.

"Kyra, I have this great joke about redheads, do you want to hear?" Brock was snickering out the words as he watched Kyra hand Alex to Reba.

"Does it involve a blond?" She answered with reference to her father's blond hair as Reba mouthed to her daughter something along the lines of how bad the joke was. At least it wasn't the dirty jokes he used to tell. Before Brock could reply, the burgers had arrived and the smell of it was overwhelming. Brock reached straight for the ketchup bottle as Reba placed the baby in a high chair next to Kyra.

"A tofu burger, Kyra? We live in Texas." Brock had his eyebrows raised teasingly at his youngest daughter as he slammed the top sesame bun onto the meaty patty, stuffing in the pickles and onions. He was imagining his supposedly clever redhead joke as he looked at the younger redhead.

The nineteen took a sip of her soda and suddenly found herself lost for snarky comments. Instead, the three of them talked. They talked about going to college, dorm lifestyle, the band. Being Cheyenne's sister, this kind of interaction had rarely happened, and Kyra couldn't help it when she threw her napkin on her cleared plate and declared, "This was awesome."

It was awesome. Mom and Dad back together. Kyra could remember three kinds of meals and they were not breakfast, lunch, and dinner. One was the loud and crazy meals when Dad would pull Mom by the waist and thank her in his own way for the meal, the kids squealing and making a mess on the dining table. That was dinner every day for a decade of her life. Then there were the tense meals that Brock sometimes took no participation in, full of silence and cold glares from Reba when someone made any comment. That was during the rocky period of her parent's marriage. Then there were the pretentious meals that was totally out of some lifestyle magazine at Barbra Jean's where he talked on and on about golf.

That meal at the burger place was unlike all three. And change, as quick as it may have come, felt awesome.

"Welcome home," Van was standing on the front porch when Kyra drove home in the late afternoon, "Sorry bout not being to pick you up, Mr. and Mrs. H. Emergency house showing. They wanted to measure all the flower beds for some reason. I told them if they run out of space, they can just use pots." He was shrugging as if it were an obvious answer, "But they told me they weren't going to use it to plant flowers. And I was like, well what about the flowers because flowers bring sunlight into the house and all that symbolism? In case you don't know, symbolism is when stuff represents other things. And then they were like-"

"We get it, Van." Brock was chuckling and filled with an excitable nature. It had something to do with a beautiful woman and her arms around his waist and her heart all his.

"Clearly, Cheyenne's rubbed off on him." Kyra was back to her typical prowl when she came into the house.

"Ha ha ha!" Van sarcastically laughed, before quipping in a familiarly Cheyenne comment, "Shut up, Kyra."

"Where's the rest of the family?" Reba peered around an unusually quiet house.

"Oh, Lori Ann left when I came home and the kids are playing upstairs. Cheyenne's still out with her grandparents." Van informed his in-laws as he plopped on the couch.

"Thank you, Van," Reba was walking into the kitchen as Brock brought in the suitcases from the car.

"No problem, Mrs. H." Van reached for a bag of chips on the coffee table, "Hey, Mrs. H," He could hear her coming out of the kitchen, "How was Mr. Huuuuh-ot?"

Reba paused for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips that she dared not show, before she quipped back.

"Cheyenne's really rubbin' off of you."

**A/N: Wowzers, I actually named Cheyenne and Van's baby in this chapter. Wedding will be coming up! Not sure how many chapters it will take up though! Review please!**


	30. Chapter 30

It was the eve of the wedding ceremony and Reba was in no mood for this game of hide-and-seek Brock had decided to play. The moment they stepped into the department store, Brock had wandered off to a completely different section than where she was headed. She wasn't irked until she realized she needed to find him in order to leave the store and he was not picking up his cell phone.

"Love of my life," He was walking toward her with that giant grin of his as she snapped her phone shut. The pre-wedding jitters he had twenty seven years ago were replaced by confident euphoria as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Where have you been?" Reba was rolling her eyes, coughing at the overwhelming scent, "Brock. I've told you a million times, stop trying all of the perfume at once." It was something he had found to be entertaining in the years of following his wife to the shopping mall.

"It's cologne," He sniffed himself, his nose accustomed to the blend of smells, but he soon narrowed his eyes in mischief, "And I was looking at shirts. I believe you owe me one."

"We haven't got the time." Reba was hissing, resting her arms on his back as she eyed the possible necessities for the wedding. She wanted to go down to the local grocer and make sure the orders for the food was in order. She wanted to peek at the wedding plans Cheyenne had made. She wanted to make sure everything was fine.

"Relax, Reba," He watched her huff out air, fists at her hip, eyes refusing to show how tired she really was, "Cheyenne told you to come to the mall to get a manicure, speaking of which, I am in need of one too."

She certainly trusted her daughter with the wedding, her parents were in it to make sure it was going to be appropriate. But she had to watch Brock looking over his nails to tell herself this shopping trip was necessary. Jake was in need of a new suit, that boy was growing too quickly. Henry was in need of some dress shoes because all his parents packed for him were light up sneakers. Reba may or may not have promised her mother she was going to wear her present at the wedding reception, and she needed a new dress just in case. There were a million things she wanted to do and her fury took the better of her.

"I am not goin' to relax!" Her voice rang as heads turned to look at her. She busied herself with the shoe displays. His facial expression shifted several times before he chose what he believed to be the right reaction.

"Alright, go pay for these," He nudged her to face the check-out, as he added in, "If we go now, I might be able to squeeze in a pedi."

* * *

"What do you think you guys are doing?" Cheyenne walked into the dark living room from the kitchen to find her parents cuddling on the couch, a bucket of popcorn on their laps. That couch could have fit five more people with they way they were sitting.

"Hey, what are you guys watching?" Reba and Brock both turned to look at their son-in-law collapsing onto the seat next to the couch, trying to figure out what movie was playing. It was evident he was having trouble, with the way his eyes squinted and his eyebrows turned down. He turned to Cheyenne, who seemed to know the answer, but only rolled her eyes at Van with her arms folded, "I give up."

"It's _An Affair To Remember_," Reba returned her eyes to the screen as Brock flashed Van the DVD cover.

"Huh," Van needed more information than that to determine what was so special about the movie but when the male lead started to talk, he burst out laughing. He practically did a spot on impression of Cary's transatlantic accent when he copied the line he just said. Cheyenne had sat down at the armrest of his chair when Van pointed at Cary Grant standing next to Deborah Kerr, "That dude has a funny accent!"

"Okay," Cheyenne felt the need to seize the reins, impatience rising,"Are you two forgetting that you have to get up _early_ tomorrow morning for your _wedding_?"

"It's only eight thirty!" Reba tugged at Brock's sleeve, dangling over her shoulder, to glance at his wristwatch.

"Mom," Cheyenne was giving her a puppy dog pout she had obviously learned from Brock, "I'm doing this for you. Come on, you watched this movie a million times! I've even watched it with you dozens of times. "

"How come I never watched this?" Van looked hurt, after getting a short summary of the movie up to that point from his father-in-law. Cheyenne and Reba could not tell if the hurt expression was from hearing about the bittersweet plot or not having been invited to mother-daughter movie marathons.

"Fine!" Reba groaned as she reached for the remote control as Cheyenne clapped her hands together.

"Thank you, Mommy, I love you!" She leaned over to kiss her mother on the cheek, as Reba couldn't help but wrap her arm around her daughter,

"Just one thing, though."

"Hmmm?" Reba was taking the DVD out of the player and back into the case.

"Dad's staying over at our place," Her voice was serious and Brock had answered before she could.

"What?" He looked confused and mad all at once.

"We've got to discuss some things, like the honeymoon." Cheyenne nodded at this necessary course of action, before blindly stating the next comment,"Besides, you didn't let Van move in until after we got married."

Her parents stared at her blankly.

"Cheyenne, you were seventeen." Brock voiced, hands at his hip, with a wary glance at the two young adults in front of him.

"Why can't we discuss it right here? Right now?" Reba shrugged.

"Yeah, why can't I stay here?" Brock defended himself, walking in front of Reba.

"Mr. H, it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, no matter how hot she's going to look," Van added, giving Reba a wink that made all three other people in the room shoot him disgusted looks. Biting his lip, he waved his hand, "It's just for one night, man."

"Reba, I think they are going to kidnap me," Brock looked at Reba over his shoulder as she gripped on his arm.

"Yeah, Van's bigger and stronger," Cheyenne patted her husband on her back with a nod, if it had to resort to that, "Besides, Mom, I doubt you need Dad for the night. You have your honeymoon for that."

"Kids!" Reba was turning red. This is worse than the triple date they just had just had with Meemaw and Grandpa. Two nights ago, Van and Cheyenne set up Reba and Brock for a double date. With Helen and JV. Then they invited themselves, making the whole situation wholly much more awkward.

"Daddy?" Cheyenne knew her father couldn't say no to his daughter, especially when she was using that voice. He turned to Reba.

"Well, it can't hurt, baby." Brock contemplated.

"Go ahead, Brock." Reba gave up. She did have a long day tomorrow. She threw the DVD on the coffee table, watching Cheyenne push Brock out of the front door, his eyes lingering on her as he blew her a rushed kiss.

"Hey, Mrs. H," Van stuffed his hands in his pocket, his voice low, "Can I borrow that?"

Reba rolled her eyes, chucking the 1957 movie at Van, who looked as if he were a five year old handed candy. He ran out of the room and Reba nodded to herself. Silence was doing a good thing for her right now. In a short few hours, she _was_ going to married again.

* * *

"Mom, you are going to look beautiful," Cheyenne had the curling iron on as she watched her mother fixing up (or wiping down of) the exaggerated cosmetic makeup in the mirror, "A beauty sleep does all the tricks."

"Unless your son-in-law calls you in the middle of the night to sob about a romantic comedy," Reba laughed at the thought.

"Yeah, Dad and Van were bawling," The blonde nodded, having actually seen the two men watching the movie, but her soft voice grew annoyed,"And now Van won't stop talking in that stupid accent."

Her red hair was just past her shoulders, curled in thick rings that settled down to a perfect wave down over the halterneck sleeves of her white dress. Cheyenne slipped on the sheer lace veil beaded with tiny white flowers at the top which matched her mother's painted nails on top of the hair and took a deep breath of awe.

"Mom!" She squealed too excitedly, bringing more of her hair to the front, and then putting her chin on her mother's shoulder, "You look so wonderful!"

Reba flashed a radiant smile at her daughter through the mirror, as she took Cheyenne's hands.

"Thank you," Her fingers were intertwining with her daughter's, "Thank you for everything."

"Aw Mom," Cheyenne had to praise herself for the awesome work, and she took a grateful minute for it before she ushered her mother out of the chair, "It's almost time. I'm going to find Grandpa."

"Make sure Kyra and Meemaw are here," Reba added in, having been informed that ever since the early morning, her youngest daughter was spending the day with her grandmother setting up the house for the wedding reception.

When the door opened again, it was not Cheyenne Montgomery who stepped in the room. She stood up, feeling the butterflies fill her stomach as her hands ran to smooth down the dress at her basque waistline, pulling the full round skirt accordingly. And standing under the window, the light shone on her and just like that, she was still Daddy's little cowgirl turning into a confident woman.

"Oooh Weee!" JV McKinney whistled, as he patted his hands around his daughter's waist, with his friendly and familiar grin, "My little girl looks just beautiful!"

"Daddy," Reba had to shield her eyes to keep them from crying as JV pulled her closer to him. Reba weakly smiled at him, adjusting his bow tie he was wearing. After all these years, she was always going to his little girl.

"I think you kept that husband of yours waitin' long enough," JV was a stickler for punctuality, no matter how much he loved his daughter. He stuck out his hand for her to take, "You ready?"

She slammed her hand against his as their held hands dropped between the two of them. She had been ready for a while.

Reba could hear a small but live band play the wedding march when she stepped out of the room, holding her father's hand. And the church was illustriously grand. There was a red carpet on the ground leading up to the front of the church, lined with gold colored designs. The pews of white were filled with expectant faces peering at her. The decorations all about the church was simple, the timing had made the sunlight the most opportune. That was all from only a side glance as she walked toward her proud family.

"Mrs. H!" Van had to pull her mother-in-law in a huge hug that lifted her off the ground, as Elizabeth tugged at her dress. There was no train to hold so instead, Elizabeth was going to be a flower girl, and she looked beautiful in her light yellow dress and little basket.

"Grandma, you look so pretty like a princess!" She declared with a hug.

"You look so cute, sweetheart." Reba pinched her cheek as she kneeled down to her granddaughter's height. When she stood back up, she had noticed Van had left to join Brock at the front of the church as his best man. Brock was standing up there! Reba had to take a deep breath and continued to survey the people in front of her. Kyra and Cheyenne were actually talking to each other civilly. Jake was whispering something to Henry that seemed to have evil intentions, as held on to the rings.

"Where's Lori Ann?" She peered at her father, looking like he needed some tobacco.

"She's in the audience." Cheyenne informed, "She felt this was a family matter."

"That's ridiculous! She's my maid of honor!" Reba was already walking over to Jake, to tell him to tell Lori Ann to come back.

"Mom, I think she's right," Kyra shrugged, peering at Cheyenne, "Besides you got another matron of honor right here."

Cheyenne was bursting with excitement as Kyra nodded at her. She walked over to another room and knocked three times on the door. As it opened, Reba felt her own mouth drop.

"Barbra Jean!"

**A/N: Were you expecting BJ to pop up? I dunno if I was but it happened! Your support means a lot to me so thank you, as always, for reading and also for your input!  
**


	31. Chapter 31

"Well?" Barbra Jean gave her an enthusiastic smile, pulling Reba in a hug, "Did you really think I'd miss your wedding? Let's get the party started!" The tall blonde let out a giant whoop that caused the audience to give each other confused glances.

"Barbra Jean, why-" Reba began.

"Shhh...Don't ask why! I'm here, girlfriend!" Barbra Jean was doing a raise-the-ceiling hand gesture, "Now go!"

The family traded smiles, lining up and heading to the front of the church. Before Reba could find the right reaction, Barbra Jean as her matron of honor winked an eye at her before turning to face the front. JV was holding on to his great granddaughter's shoulders a bit too tensely as the little girl, and when he claimed it was time for her to walk down the aisle, Reba could assume she was relieved. Being the daughter of a football player, Elizabeth was every bit adorable running down the aisle, scattering the flower petals, with a genuine smile on her face. Cheyenne leaned over to smile at her husband, standing behind and left of her father. Their daughter made sure that the two of them had their moments, even if it was her parents' wedding. Her expression dropped when she noticed Van's hair, deeply parted to the left and gelled, and he mouthed something along the lines of "Cary Grant" while pointing to his face. Elizabeth proceeded to hug her grandfather, who suddenly felt the clammy sweaty hands of his when they weren't clenched together in front of him before he watched the little girl bury her head in her mother's stomach. The next thing he knew, he was blown away at the beautiful sight in front of him.

And suddenly there was only Reba and Brock. No one else.

His toes were curling within the leather of his dress shoes as he took breaths. Her hair was peeking out from the veil, her eyes were lit with a fire, her nose was cute as a button as it always was. Her lips were curled upwards in one of the more happier faces he had seen. The woman in white walking toward him was going to be his again. Brock felt his brain fizzling, suddenly at a loss for not only words but thoughts. It was as if the room around him had just turned into a blur of lights and that he was standing on the ledge, about to slam down to reality any moment. They had been through so much together, it was their chance to make everything right again.

She may have been the prime example of confident radiant beauty but she could feel her knees wobbling, not even her sensible white heels could do her justice. Memories came flooding back. All the screaming and fighting, and then all the making up. Reba could recognize all the features that made up his expressions. The darkened eyes that lingered on her the very same the first time he took her virginity when they were in college. The excited smile, the same one he had when he held each of their children for the first time. The same tenseness in his facial muscles as when he was enjoying something. The veins were slightly throbbing on his forehead, the sign that he was concentrating on something. But she wasn't taking all that seriously. Reba was taking in the handsome husband standing in front of her. He stood so tall in his black suit, his blonde hair combed neatly.

And when JV let go of Reba's hand, she had the instantaneous wish to take Brock's and so their hands met.

"Hi," He whispered to her, as she turned so that they were parallel with the white church pews, standing in front of the reverend.

"Hello," She mouthed back as the ceremony began.

When the member of the clergy finally announced the kissing of the bride, Brock could hardly believe it. The third time and it still felt like the first. He took her by the waist, so that their bodies might have been pressing against each other in a way that was slightly inappropriate given their location. Reba was brimming with joy, and they took a second or two to look at each other and take it all in. Her hands were grasping on to his upper arm, her elbows resting on his lower arm. Brock Hart leaned in and a second before their eyes closed, he whispered to her, "I love you, Mrs. Hart."

The wildfires were going off, the audience clapped politely. Barbra Jean was whooping again.

Their fingers weaved together and looking at each other, they climbed into the back of the limo heading back to the house.

"Driver, take your time, please," Reba was undoing his bow tie as she kicked off her heels when Brock was rapping on the glass partition, asking that small favor of the chauffeur to make a fifteen minute drive home thirty.

"Brock, we can't be late to our own wedding reception," Reba pressed her lips against her new husband's. He chose to ignore her. The groom had felt her slide toward him and it wasn't just due to the leather seats. He held her in his arms and with that, they were in a whole other world.

In that universe where all was right, cars didn't lurch forward to brake. They had arrived home. But it did, and Brock groaned. He ran a hand through his house as Reba tended to any lipstick that was on his face. The doors were open and they were walking down the driveway of their house, pre-party in all its silent and uncluttered glory.

"Don't worry, we've got the whole honeymoon and pretty much the rest of our lives. One reception isn't gonna kill you," Reba was saying as they walked up to the porch holding hands, "I can't believe you won't tell me where we're going."

"That's for you to choose tonight, baby," Brock caught her eyes widen and he knew she was trying hard not to show how ecstatic she was for that. The Reba Hart he married never expected surprises and coming from Brock, it would never even shock her. He did try very hard to be novel about this one.

"Let's go." She smirked, taking his hand as they headed into their front door. He wrapped his hand around her wrist as she paused for just a second. He took her by where the back of her knees must have been under that white dream of a dress and one around her back. She put her arms around his neck and leaned forward to peck him on the lips. And they together crossed the threshold as a married couple.

And as much as Brock would have wanted to consummate this marriage right then and there, as much as he would like to take her up the stairs, he had to put her down.

"Honey, look at what the kids did!" There was an obvious pride in her voice as he took a look around his living room.

"Wait until you get to the back yard. That's where the main attraction is." Kyra was the first to greet them, and she was the first to be pulled into a hug by both of her parents.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart," Brock confided in his truly artistic daughter.

"Let's cross our fingers nothing happens at this wedding," Kyra nodded, thinking of the couple of weddings they have had in the Hart family for the past few years. She did want the day to go smoothly for her parents. They especially deserved it. "But congratulations, really."

The house did look amazing, considering the short amount of time they were given. Flowers decorated every and any corner of the house. The couch was moved out of the room and circular tables were all over the living room, draped in metallic colors that almost neared a pink hue. The white chairs they used for Cheyenne and Van's home wedding were placed, four at each table. Reba picked up one name card and showed it to Brock in delight of how adorable they were. There were pitchers of cool lemonade, the glass covered with water droplets, sitting on the dining table next to unlit mahogany red candlesticks and a picture scrapbook. The house looked too neat to live in but when they walked to the backyard, it was a complete mess. Elizabeth and Henry were running around and Cheyenne was barking at them to stop, not that she could do much in her floral mini dress and heels. Van was complaining that he was too tired, and he wasn't lying considering the sweat spots on his shirt. There was debris everywhere. Barbra Jean was messing with the sound system, blasting some loud synthetic pop music. Jake was sitting in the decorated tree house with his nephew on his lap.

"Hey you two!" Cheyenne ran up to her parents, putting her arm around her little sister's shoulder, with an ecstatic grin on her face, "Why don't you two go upstairs and change? I promise, everything will look great when you make your grand entrance!"

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Reba offered. There was one whole hour before the reception began.

"Just go get changed," Cheyenne nodded to her sister, before taking her by the arm, "Come on, Kyra! We got to finish up! Give Mom and Dad the grand tour when we're done! You two are going to love it!"

Brock was standing by Reba's bedroom window, staring out at the sight of lights in the backyard. They were flowing like fireflies around a temporary gazebo in the backyard. His hands were running down over his tie and button down white shirt, catching the ring on his finger. It was the same one he wore the first twenty years and the gold of the band glistened in the dark room.

"What are you doing, standing in the dark?" He could hear something crash to the ground and he turned to face Reba turning on a lamp. He didn't get to see what fell to the ground. "Somebody's going to end up tripping."

"Sorry," He murmured, placing his hand on her bare arm. Before he knew it, Brock had him in his arms. They were just hugging, and somehow that made him more emotional than he realized.

Reba was patting his hair, her cheek pressed to his, when she whispered, "Boy, we've both been on an emotional roller coaster today!"

"Baby, I love you," He didn't need to say he won't screw up this time, Reba could tell by his gravelly voice and she held on to his neck tighter.

"I love you, Brock." She buried her face in the warmth of his neck. The tighter he was holding on to her waist, the more breathless she was and she let out a tiny squeak that made him chuckle.

"Still feel the sparks?" He wiped at his misty eyes when he let go of her body and took her hand.

"Always." Reba rolled her eyes before putting on a pleasant smile, as she led the way down to receive the guests.

"Hey, I was wondering because happy anniversary to us," Brock was bouncing down the stairs, buttoning up the rest of his suit, with a proud beam, "Are we keeping count startin' from twenty? Or twenty-seven even or do we start from Day one?

"Obviously we start from one, you dweeb, you were married to Barbra Jean the last six years." Reba had to glare at him once they reached the bottom of the stairs as his hands flew up, innocent of any blame to come.

"Oh, you two!" The first of the guests had arrived. Reba's aunts' were a set of old ladies with heavy pearl necklaces and thick cat-eyed spectacles that insisted on lots of physical contact to show their congratulations, "How long has it been! My, what a couple. How many years has it been?"

Of course Auntie Alice may have been asking for how many years it has been since Reba first drove home to Oklahoma with Brock as a husband but Reba could not help herself when she blurted it out.

"Twenty-seven years!" She gave them a hug as they laughed out loud and headed to find other family members. When she turned to Brock, his hands were in his pant pockets and he was raising one eyebrow.

"Hey, I wasn't married to nobody else," Reba jabbed him softly in the belly with her elbow, her joke made up for by a quick peck on the cheek.

**A/N: a rather slow chapter I felt...but they deserve a nice, normal wedding. And I would like to thank all my readers (Reba the country queen, rarararawr, Reba-Brockfan, crazy4reba, Jfetter62, and anon guests). There will be a couple more chapters left, so I'm trying to write the best possible ending to this story! **


	32. Chapter 32

"I'm just saying, Cheyenne. Why do I have to go to ballet class with Elizabeth?" Van's shoulders were slumped, his face contorted in an anything-but-this expression, as he was rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"Honey, you're always saying how you want Elizabeth to do a sport so you can participate with her," Cheyenne was busy playing with the baby during the reception.

"That's because I thought she was gonna do softball or, " He was sputtering out for another sport, "Bowling!"

"Bowling? Well, she chose ballet," Cheyenne didn't have to hide her amusement when she smiled at her husband, "Van, I know you. You're going to do anything for that daughter you love so much."

Van took a moment to watch Elizabeth dancing with Brock, her little shoes on his feet. His eyes shifted over and he stated what he was only observing.

"Man, Mrs. H has been talking to Barbra Jean for like, the past ten minutes." Cheyenne nodded at Van's comment as he continued, "And fine, I'll take Elizabeth to ballet."

"Yay!" She clapped her hands together as she leaned over the table to kiss her husband, "Thank you, honey."

Van grabbed a beer from the cooler next to him and they continued to watch the people all around them. Cheyenne's maternal grandparents were sitting with Brock's mother. Jake was shooting, rather missing, hoops with his friends.

There were chairs set up all along the house in the backyard, the grassy area covered by a temporary dance floor. Cheyenne walked over to her mother from where Van was sitting, his chair propped and leaning against the wall. Her arms wrapped around her mother's shoulders as she listened to the conversation she and a guest were having.

"I'm saying, I couldn't believe it when he left me. It's time you treasure every moment you have together." The guest was in tears as Reba patted the woman on the shoulder. The sticky conversation of death at a wedding reception gave Cheyenne the shivers and she kissed her mother's cheek before she walked over to her father and daughter.

"Hey Cheyenne," Brock let go of one of Elizabeth's hand to wave to his own daughter.

"Hey Dad," She took Elizabeth by the shoulders, "Hey sweetie pie! Can Mommy have a dance with Mommy's daddy?"

The little girl nodded, she was always so compliant.

"Great! Your daddy's sitting over there with Lexy." She pointed to where Van was sitting, trying to teach his son how to fist pump. And when she stood up, she felt her father's familiarly warm hands holding hers as she gave him a congenial smile.

"Congratulations, Dad." Cheyenne swayed to the music playing, "I'm so happy for you and Mom. When you two were dancing together just then, I think I cried. It was so sweet."

"Thanks, sweetheart." Brock gave her a wary smile, and he seemed as if he was going to say something but his mouth clamped shut. So the two of them danced until the song ended. Something about the summer night seemed right to Cheyenne, as if she were ten years old again and everything was the way it was in the Hart family. But she turned to watch Barbra Jean showing off her break dancing moves to Henry and her new husband and she knew that she nor her mother would deny the impact and meaning that former dental hygenist had brought into their lives.

"I'm going to get a drink," Brock looked through the crowd, no doubt looking for his new bride, "You want anything, sweetie?"

"You forget," Cheyenne backed away from her father with a smile, "Two years sober."

"Right," Brock took her shoulder, before pulling her into a side hug, "I'm proud of you."

"Is it eight o' clock?" Cheyenne broke the hug, her voice filled with anticipation, "Oh my goodness! It's time for speeches!"

"Speech?" Brock could feel the back of his neck break into a cold sweat.

"Yes," Cheyenne nodded, "And you get to go first!"

"What, no." Brock stuffed his hands into his pockets, "Cheyenne, you know I can't talk."

"Please, you're going to talk about Mom." She smirked. Brock definitely had a lot to say on that matter. Somehow the microphone was in his hands, "Go."

After a few uhs and ums, he managed to say something that led to Barbra Jean's characteristic laugh to fill the back yard. He furrowed his brows as the comment was not meant to be funny. He pondered on adding how he was late to his first wedding for some extra humor but he chose not to.

"Uhhh." He let out, the last time in this speech, he swore. He glanced over to catch each of his family member, eyes lingering on Reba, "Today was supposed to be our twenty seventh anniversary, mine and Reba's..."

He was certainly using a bunch of hand gestures. By the end of his speech, he had his fists raised determinedly, looking only at her, "And that's how I knew she was the one. The one and the only. I love you, sweetie."

Brock blew a kiss at her which his wife feigned to catch, pressing her hand to her chest. Polite clapping filled the room as Barbra Jean snatched the microphone from him and practically pushed him off the stage. She began with a semi-insult to the planning of the wedding too small of a service. Then she proceeded to declare herself as the other woman and that those who love her will always defend her. Halfway through the middle, she had burst into song.

Brock had made his way over to Reba, standing there watching Barbra Jean say something totally absurd about their dysfunctional relationship from the past six years.

"Hey," She murmured, as he put his arm around her shoulder. And when her blue eyes peered into his, he knew that he finally said something right. She was truly touched by his humbling speech and she pressed her lips against his softly, "Thank you."

"It was all true," He encouragingly smiled at her, patting her on the back. Those blue eyes would always haunt him, even if his own were closed.

There was some badly made jokes about "hitting the jackpot"and "Brock being Reba's rock".

"And that is why I am bestowing my best friend, Reba, and her new man-or should I say, old man," She cracked up at her own joke, before taking deep breaths and continuing, "That's why I got them two plane tickets to the Vegas of the Orient, in other words, Macau." The weather girl was holding two plane tickets and waving them in the air as Reba's mouth dropped. She thanked her new husband for thinking of the idea and did a flimsy curtsy. When she confidently walked off the stage, she placed the envelope on the gift table.

Van spoke next, a very thoughtful speech for his in-laws, though very typical of Van. Kyra remarked on what she felt about her parents with profound emotions. Cheyenne praised herself for a well-planned wedding. After the rest of her family had gone, Reba found herself the last act of the night. The audience looked fidgety, ready to start dancing again and asking for refills for their wine glasses.

"It started in Vegas." She began, letting the bright spotlight blind her from the reaction of the audience, "And I'm so glad it didn't end there. You already heard how Brock and I have known each other for more than thirty years. I told myself that I wouldn't fall for him again. And I didn't."

She could hear gasps in the audience and she ran her fingers down the side of her chiffon light green dress.

"I was already in love with him. Despite how _annoying_ his motives were these past few months, they worked because they did the first time. Brock was my friend, first of all. He is so much more than that to me and now I'm so grateful we have Vegas as one memory," How much she wished she could find him in the crowd. The father of her children, her confidante, her partner-in-crime, her drinking buddy, her lover, her everything. She took a deep breath and concluded her monologue, "Las Vegas may have made us friends again but it was something else entirely that allows me to say Brock is my husband."

"That was a fantastic spiel, Reba," A Texan drawl filled her ears as she whirled around, being engaged with Brock on a whole other matter involving their lips.

"Sally!" She had to take another look at the blonde in front of her, hair unkempt as if she had been at the beach all day. Her dark skin gave that impression too. So did the flip flops under the chic but colorful dress she had on. Reba felt Brock's arm tighten around her waist and she turned excitedly to him, "Say hello to your sister, Brock."

"Hi," He waved at his oldest sister at what may be the most awkward event of tonight. She was a no-nonsense individualist who boldly grew up in feminist movements and women's rights. Sally Hart was nine years older than Brock and with him being the only boy in the family, he was subject to a lot he would rather not mention. Even as adults, she broke off all contact with her brother, with her own way of disowning him for what he did to both Reba and Barbra Jean. He could hear her voice scolding him, "What do you think women are? You polygamous plaything! Men!"

"How have you been, my dear little brother." She smirked, raising her glass. He sighed. All the women in his life were so mean to him.

Reba took the opportunity to change the conversation, as she took her by the sleeve, "Sally, how are the kids?"

"Great, if you can call them kids," She scoffed before yapping out the general facts about her three grown sons, before pointing out to a twenty six year old boy, her middle child, "You can ask Andy, has that rude boy came to you too yet?" Before Reba and Brock could return a yes or no, she let out a groan and walked over to her dancing son. Brock could notice him pause and look over in their direction and wave congenially to the two of them before walking over, taking the hand of the person he was dancing with along with him. Brock's mouth dropped.

"Reba, what is she doing with my nephew?" Brock's voice was high-pitched as Reba took notice of who he was pointing at.

"Hello, you two!" Lori Ann halted in front of the two of them, still hanging on to Andrew who had the oogly eyes for her and her leopard patterned tight dress. Brock would have dared to ask if the design was cougar but Reba's temper was no exception even on her own wedding day, "How come I never knew Brock had such exceptionally good looking relatives?"

"Hey, what about my kids?" Reba feigned anger but burst out smiling.

"That's different, you were part of the mix." Lori Ann managed to insult Brock anyways.

"Congratulations, Uncle Brock," His nephew, Andrew, curtly smiled at him and then at his bride, "Aunt Reba."

"Aw, they won't listen," Lori Ann leaned in to the lanky boy's figure, and played the next line jokingly or not, "They are too busy wondering if they have to do the congratulating for the new in-law. After all, I did catch the bouquet, didn't I?"

As if the thought of Lori Ann Garner being with his nephew disgusted Brock, he turned to Reba with a tomato-red face.

"What the hell is she doing with him?" He hissed as Reba tried to calm him down, slamming her palms as hard as she could against the back of his back to tell him to shut up.

"I love this song! Let's go, Lori Ann!" Andrew started to dance to the music, not at all noticing the adult's reaction to his mingling with a woman his uncle's age, obliviously scooting away to the dance floor.

Brock shook off the sight more quickly than Reba could believe, he had to because he had more important matters to deal with. He clinked his champagne flute to hers, making a toast for only the two of them.

"Here's to us." And she swore fireworks were going off in the background, for real, when he kissed her.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, I appreciated all the support!  
**


	33. Chapter 33

"Where exactly are you taking me?" They were sitting on the bench in the front porch, her hands on his chest and looking up at his face in the glow of the porch lights. Reba was of course, referring to the setting of which they would be celebrating their honeymoon. Brock had only mentioned a midnight trip and at ten o'clock, the wedding guests were still sitting around the living room chatting and drinking or in the backyard dancing and cajoling. She had threatened him with having Kyra google all the departing flights for the night but that was not as fun as this was.

He made the motion of zipping his lips as she frowned.

"Brock, you always treat it like it's a big deal," Reba tried to argue with him, in order to get him to spill the beans, "Then you tell me we're just going to Iowa or Wisconsin with three kids in the back seat because you decided to spend all the money we saved up for yourself."

"I told you it's a plane ride." Brock smugly told her.

"Were you hinting to my parents that we were going to go with them to Oklahoma?" Reba narrowed her eyes, "Or are we seriously going to Macau with those tickets- those first class tickets? Can you believe it?"

"Nope," Brock shook his head, "But we can stop there, if you want. But not Oklahoma. I remember my injuries very well."

"You know how family is," Reba had to stifle her giggles, recalling the first time Reba brought her boyfriend home during Christmas Break, her glance lowered. "Besides, we had fun didn't we?"

"In the barn, in your bedroom, yeah," Brock was nodding now, his eyes gazing off in the distance as a big smile lingered on his lips of the week they spent there back when they were a couple of college kids.

"We were inseparable." Reba could see their aging selves in her head, realizing how far they've come, "We were so in love."

"We still are so in love." Brock corrected, tightening his arm around her shoulder. She moved her lips on his for a second until he caught a glimpse of her eyes, brimming with trust and love and passion.

"And we are inseparable." She laughed out, trying to make her words sound sarcastic but it came short. Brock bit his lips.

"Fine, I'll give you a hint," He knew that promising Reba a vacation had always ended up being more stressful for her. The Vegas trip was every indication of it, the first one at least. It was as if Reba's ears perked up, ready for a challenge, "There is a Disneyland there."

"Oh." Reba's lips formed a circle, her voice flat, "Florida?"

"Nope." Brock was grinning. He had gotten her good even if her next guest was Hong Kong, a boat ride away from the place Barbra Jean had gotten them a ticket to. He could barely keep it to himself at that point. He could not believe Reba thought he wouldn't want to splurge on this joyous moment in their life.

"California," She tried again.

"Honey," His voice was filled with laughter, "I'll give you another hint. Canals. Eiffel Towers. Giant Castles."

She was really confused now. Was it Lego Land or Vegas again? Brock furrowed his brows; it must be some psychological reason she was not willing to name it out right there.

"Gelato...Golf..." He continued on as her lips remained mum, so he had to shake her a bit. "Honey, we're going to Europe!"

"You're taking me to Europe!" She was squealing in a manner that he had not seen in a while, but managed to regain her composure,"Where in Europe?"

"Anywhere you want." He had to be a little proud in the decision he had made during the indecision of whether he should take her to _her_ Italy or _her_ Paris, "I told you to ask for two weeks off from work, didn't I? We're flying to Ireland tonight."

"_My_ Ireland?" She was biting her smiling lips.

* * *

The flimsy springs of the bed was creaking against its wooden post as the vibrations against the floorboard rattled the windows of the stone cottage. Brock had his hand on the headboard for support, the back of her head was pressed against the carved board, with the assistance of the fluffy pillows.

"Oh God." It was a soft purr that left her lips as her entire body rattled. With every kiss he left, something was burning from within her with how right this felt. Or it could have just be the fact that it was summer. Her legs had kicked off the white sheet that was tantalizingly draped over their two bodies, "It's so hot."

He broke from their embrace, leaning against one of the canopy posts at the end of the bed with a big breath of air. All the while, she wanted those big, strong arms caressing him so she put out hers. He could not stop ogling, her sweaty body glowing in the incandescence that a lamp provided. Reba's distinctive red hair was a mess, a hot mess.

"Get back here." She motioned with lowered eyes, running her toes up his thigh as far as she could reach across the opposite of the bed. They had been at it for a while, ever since he threw her on the bed the moment they reached their rented cottage. Brock had explained during the plane ride that a friend of a guy that he knew in Arizona who was related to fellow classmate had arranged it. Frankly, he could not believe the sexual appetite the woman had, it could have only been repressed of it for the past few years because she was always like this whenever the mood struck her. He was totally worn out but he was not about to turn it down. She was crawling over to his side, sliding up between his open legs as his hands grazed over her figure. She was calling out his name, "Brock..."

"Call me Doctor Hart, sugar." He huskily demanded, his hands stopping at where her stomach met her hipbones. She was on her knees, her bare butt brushing against his legs, as her hands fiddled with the back of his neck.

"I thought you got over your dentist fantasies when you knocked up Barbra Jean," Reba was giggling, resting her cheek against the top of his sweaty head. Nothing was going to break her high tonight. What else could they have mentioned when they were too busy looking over each other and the happiness written over their face. But Reba recalled exactly what role playing as dentist and patient would entail and the thought of the past few years exhilarated her. She leaned in against him so that her chests was against his face, so close he could feel her heart beating as fast as his, "But Doctor, my mouth..."

He was smiling up at her when he took her by the jaw, slipping his tongue into her mouth so that it moved across the top of her teeth. A prickling but delightful sensation was filling both of their skins. His moving body heaved against hers, moving too much for her taste as she placed her hands around the thick canopy post, her hair falling into his face.

Bells were ringing in the early morning but within their own sanctuary, Reba was in Brock's arms and all was right again in their hearts.

* * *

"How was the trip?" Reba looked up from the hug her thirteen year old son was giving her to see Cheyenne at the bottom of the staircase. She glanced over at Brock who only shrugged his shoulders.

"It was great." Brock answered, as Reba nodded, her arms still around her son's shoulders at the front door. He looked even more tanned than anyone could believe; it was such a healthy glow about him. All of the kids could see just how positive the honeymoon had been for their mother, everything about her appearance showed it. The freckles on her face, the crinkles by her eyes, the laugh lines on her face.

"You guys aren't going to tell us anything, are you?" Cheyenne smirked, looking from mother to father.

"I told you so, Cheyenne." Van came out of the bathroom with Elizabeth in hand, pausing as his in-laws took in the image of Van in skin tight Spandex and leotards. He felt the need to explain himself, "I'm helping out in the ballet class."

"I know who would get it out of her." Kyra walked out of the kitchen next to her older sister, thumb pointing to the kitchen, "Barbra Jean's here and it's the weirdest thing ever. She won't talk, just keeps acting like she's got food in her mouth which she does."

"Oh boy," Brock whistled like a kettle on boil, a sour expression unfamiliar on a face that had been nothing but smiles for the past fifteen days.

"Barbra Jean?" Reba was already walking into the kitchen, "What are you still doing here?"

"The instant mix cake's not done," She shrugged as she poured some more of the left over nonalcoholic apple cider Reba and Brock served at the wedding into her glass.

"I meant in Houston," Reba blankly stared at her, settling down in the chair next to her. Something was up, she could tell by her face. Barbra Jean was biting her lips if not pouring liquid into her mouth, trying to hide her face from Reba, and laughing awkwardly.

"Barb-"

"I'm moving back to Texas!" Barbra Jean blurted out, hands on her mouth as Brock and the kids came running in.

"Wha-"

"I'm having another baby!" She blurted out in the same manner as her first statement. Not enough time was given for a recovery, Barbra Jean slammed her hands over her mouth after exclaiming, "Stupid, stupid me!"

"One at a time," Reba took her by the arm, looking into the blonde's eyes. Brock had the same look he had when Lori Ann called them earlier to say that she and Brock's twenty six year old nephew had eloped and were heading to Hawaii.

"Adam and I are moving to Austin," Barbra Jean slowed down to explain a new job offer as Reba clapped her hands in joy for her good friend, "And they told me that the baby would not affect viewing, heck! They said they would go goo-goo over it because of family values and all! But are you okay with the baby, Reba?"

She rubbed her belly, which no one would have ever noticed if she did not point it out.

"Why wouldn't I be!" Reba incredulously looked at her stomach and tried to estimate how far she was along.

"Because I got the feeling you weren't happy when I was pregnant with Henry." Barbra Jean revealed with a frown on her face. Reba had to turn to her Brock for his reaction as the two traded a look to Barbra Jean's naive observation. Suddenly, a wave of stillness washed over her face.

"Where is Henry?" Brock finally piped up as Barbra Jean froze. A wave of stillness passed before Barbra Jean flurried to the door and ran out screaming her son's name.

"Oh my goodness," Cheyenne exclaimed, walking behind the kitchen island with her arms folded, "We just lost our chance to find out about Mom and Dad's honeymoon in Europe."

"Is that really the main concern right now?" Kyra scoffed, after hearing Barbra Jean's announcements.

"I know," Jake walked over to the oven and took a deep breath, "Cake's almost done."

Reba sighed as Brock took a seat where Barbra Jean was previously occupying. It wasn't like they never had to give watered down versions of the past memories to their kids.

"Nothing happened!" Reba began with a flourished wave of the hand, "Alright! We had a rented cottage in Ireland. Your Dad played a lot of golf and I rode horses." The wide green land made them enjoy the outdoorsy lifestyle Reba had missed, the life she had growing up. She didn't have to mention all the pubs they stopped at.

"Then we headed off to England and we went on the London Eye." Brock added in, giving only one event from their itinerary.

"And then we had a very good-" She recalled the cheese and wine ordeal in Paris. Even French McDonald's was good.

"Good, as in romantic?" Cheyenne patted her eyelashes when her mother began to talk again. Kyra rolled her eyes, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"A romantic dinner in Paris, went up the Eiffel Tower, and walked along with the river." Reba nodded, it _was_ very romantic of Brock.

"Then we stopped in Italy," Brock could not stop smiling at that point, Italy was his favorite for certain reasons besides the Coliseum and love padlocks in Florence.

"Oh, and we stopped in Monte Carlo too." Reba pointed out, "And we returned to the cottage and that is that."

She nodded at Brock who did the same.

"Man," Jake exclaimed, his eyes still on the oven, "You guys sound like typical old people tourists."

"Typical _American_ old people tourists," Kyra corrected her little brother with a look of mischief in her eyes.

"That's all we are going to get, huh," Cheyenne smirked, still unsatisfied.

Reba leaned forward to poke her daughter's nose. She knew how this problem would be solved.

"You kids want your presents now?"

**A/N: There is definitely a lot that I want to sum up in these last couple of chapters and I feel kinda swamped!  
**


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